brevity
by gryffindormischief
Summary: Unrelated collection of ficlets - canonverse and non :)
1. HG - So what if I broke my arm

You'd think lying in a pile of a pile of leaves with his arm at a sharp - _unnatural_ \- angle and two out of three children wailing in distress, would put a damper on Harry's Gryffindor chivalry, but then you wouldn't be his wife.

So Ginny's not all that surprised when Harry's scrabbling for his wand with his left hand, the bone mending spell already on his lips. But she is prepared.

In a slashing movement, she summons the wand toward herself and tucks it behind her ear - too many grabby hands around for back pockets - and kneels at Harry's side. "I am going to heal your arm and then we are going to get Ron over here to build the damn treehouse."

"I can _do_ it."

"Your compound fracture says otherwise," Ginny drawls, unimpressed, though she does run her fingers through his mussed hair, wild and splayed around his face.

"S'not compound," he lifts it and winces, "No bone."

"That is becoming more and more likely," she grumbles, a low threat in her voice, "Now hold still."

"And anyway," Harry continues as she eyes the trio of Potter children who seem recovered enough, given their current 'dog-pile' of sorts, "So what if I broke my arm - I'm still doing it."

"I'm going to break your _other_ arm."


	2. RH - Please stop petting

If Ron was a betting man, he'd have bet his stake in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes that Hermione's reaction to their - extremely humane and entirely ethical - testing involving a litter of Kneazles would have been a lot of shouting about them being 'living things' and how he was being an arse.

Instead, she dropped her cloak and and brief case in a careless way one never associated with Hermione Granger-Weasley and immediately grabbed two of the little squirming fur balls at once. One seems entirely content to remain tucked into the crook of her arm in a way that has him wondering if they're about to adopt a Kneazle, while the other is fully prepared to scale her arm and pounce on that escaped tendril that bounces below her jaw. Not unlike Ron.

But, along side eternally infatuated Ron Weasley is _business man_ Ron Weasley, and George was very adamant that any tampering with the little rascals could influence their results poorly.

So with as much distress as he can muster, Ron mumbles, "Can you _please_ stop petting the test subjects?"


	3. L S - You need to stop leaving dead

When Sirius said he was going to cosmetology school, Lily assumed the weirdest part would be him asking to cut her hair or dye it some off base color. She did _not_ expect to walk into her kitchen and find her fiance's dead body splayed across the floor in a pool of too-red blood.

Lily blinks at Sirius, "What did we say last time?"

"My coloring needs work?" Sirius tries, forced innocence on his face.

"He needs to make more friends so I can stop being his dummy?" James offers from the floor.

"Shut up, dummy," Lily shoots back before facing Sirius again, "We _said_ stop leaving -"

"Dead bodies in the kitchen," Sirius finishes, pouty, arms folded over his chest.

" _My_ kitchen," Lily corrects.

James snickers from his splayed position and Sirius kicks him in his bloodied side, "Stuff it."

"Yes, stuff it in _your_ house," Lily reiterates, eyeing the blood-spatter across the sideboard.

"But the lighting's so much _better_ here," Sirius groans, though Lily is unmoved, so he snaps his case shut with a click, "Fine, but guess who's being written _out_ of my Oscar's speech."


	4. HG - So what if I broke my arm v2

It's an odd thing, to see the Boy Who Lived and the matriarch of the Weasley family united and almost identically stoic in expression and bearing, but when the full circumstances are taken into account, really not all that unexpected.

Ginny and Charlie are parallel to one another, horizontal to the ground, and with the former holding a spare broom in one hand while the both maintain a tenuous grip on the broom beneath them.

Tucking her shirt tail into her shorts, Ginny sends the duo a wink before nodding once at Charlie. Molly scowls at her son, "If you break your arm I'm not writing an excuse to the reserve that's less embarrassing."

"I'll write my own, _Mum_ ," Charlie answers back,

"I don't think the question is _if_ Molly," Harry grumbles as both siblings fly slightly higher.

George is lounged a few feet away in an obnoxiously pink lawn chair complete with attached umbrella to keep the summer rays off his pale skin. "If we add a ring of fire you two could make me a pretty penny - and broken bones add to the danger if you don't mind it."

"So what if I break my arm," Charlie answers, cocky, "I'm still doing it."

"You are talking to a Harpy and a man who works on a dragon reserve," Ginny reasons, wriggling so her weight is entirely on the balls of her feet.

Harry sighs and drops his head into his hand, earning an eye roll from Ginny, "Don't be so judge-y sir, you once flew an enchanted car to Hogwarts."

Barking out a laugh, George raises his sunglasses and grins at Harry, "I never thought I'd say this, but I can't _wait_ for you two to have kids."


	5. JL - I'm going to need you to put on

Lily really should have known that something like this would happen when she asked Sirius to house sit. But Remus is off on assignment and James is - well.

But when your weekend conference in Mallorca is a mix of rain drenched beaches and entirely pointless meetings in the conference center that was a kilometer from your slightly moldy smelling hotel room, it's acceptable to be a bit forgetful.

Still, by some stroke of luck or the benevolence of some higher being, the conference ended early and Lily was able to get a flight timed perfectly with her evacuation from the resort - if you could call it that - and arrived back to an equally grey London. Though for whatever reason, the grey feels better here and puts her in a somewhat better mood. Which doesn't mean she's any less wiped out, or in need of a piping hot shower and an order of something spicy that can be gorged while snuggled up on the couch watching something on Netflix.

Under normal circumstances, upon entering her home, she'd notice things like messy trainers that are definitely too non-leather to be Sirius', a used mug by the coffee maker (which Sirius refuses to use), and most importantly, the sound of the shower and warbling singing. But, as mentioned, Lily is cold, tired, and is already planning a four course meal from China Wok that could feed a small family, so she is not at her most perceptive.

So she kicks her shoes off, drops her bags in the hall, and has the door thrown open on a very surprised very _naked_ James Potter as he steps out of her shower - too glistening and wet for her own sanity.

He blinks once, twice, then squints and Lily can't help but notice the flush that spreads _well_ past his face, neck - where those water droplets are slowly slipping lower. James scratches at the bridge of his nose, "What are the chances my eyesight is so bad you're actually Sirius and not Lily?"

"Very slim."

"I'm _so_ sorry, but Sirius - "

Finally, Lily covers her eyes and lets out a nervous chuckle, "I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."


	6. HG - Please put me down it's just

The first winter after the war, Ginny apparently made it her unofficial New Year's resolution to make Harry do as many childhood things he'd never done as possible. Which is how Harry ended up with a death grip on her hands, sliding across the uneven ice on borrowed skates.

And despite the unpleasantness of wobbly legs and chapped cheeks, when Ginny lets her hands slip closer so her palms cup his elbows, her hair blowing toward his face in fiery tendrils, Harry's the most content he's been in a long while.

Looking back, waxing poetic was probably his biggest mistake, but no one who's been blessed with bearing the full brunt of Ginny's smile, full and uninhibited, could blame him. So when he's lying on his side, hip smarting and ankle blooming with an unpleasant warmth beneath his woolen socks, he's not _that_ sorry.

Ginny flips him onto his back and begins patting his body down for injury - which he probably enjoys too much - while her brow furrows in distress. "Bloody hell."

"M'ok," Harry murmurs, scrabbling to tug his knobby knitted cap care of Hermione back onto his messy locks.

With a short huff, Ginny pulls him into a sitting position and wraps one arm around his middle, the other grabbing for his injured leg, carrying him almost completely through the snow drifts that stand between the frozen pond and the comforting warmth of the Burrow's fire. "Put your arm around my neck, yeah?"

Hopping along on one leg and trying to keep as much weight as possible _off_ his diminutive if muscled girlfriend, Harry obeys. "Would you - "

"Don't argue with me, Harry James," Ginny grunts through gritted teeth as she tugs him through another few feet of snow.

" _Please_ put me down, it's just a sprained ankle."

"We don't know that."

Harry sighs and Ginny pulls him a little further, "This isn't working."

"You think?" Harry drawls, relieved when she releases her grip on his arm, though it only lasts a few moments before Ginny's turning her back on him and grinning over her shoulder.

"Climb aboard, eh?"


	7. HG - I'm sorry I got too into playing

Harry's always loved babysitting Teddy when Remus and Tonks decided they needed a night together, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't become _more_ appealing when they started double date nights once a month with Bill and Fleur. Which still sounds more unselfish than it really is, because double date nights with the Weasleys means Victoire needs a sitter, which is almost always Ginny after the George and Percy co-babysitting fiasco at Christmas.

Originally, this meant increased texting traffic between the two of them, sending silly pictures of their charges and occasional advice. Until Teddy saw a picture of Victoire and practically demanded joint evenings. And Harry wasn't about to argue with the concept of more Ginny time, since he was even more hopelessly infatuated than Teddy.

So when the two couples asked if Harry and Ginny could watch the kids for an entire weekend, Harry had to bite back on the urge to _thank_ them and retain some of his dignity, since Ginny was smirking at his initial expression of excitement.

Overall, Teddy and Victoire kept each other busy enough, only needing occasional refereeing or snacks - mostly the latter. But they did enjoy a good game of make believe, varying from Harry being cast as a dragon, or Ginny as a fairy princess, to this particular evening, where they wanted something a bit more _realistic_.

"We should go on a date, like mum n' dad," Teddy suggests over a slice of home made pizza, where the pepperoni had been shaped into a large smiling face.

Ginny raises her brows at Harry from across the table, waiting for Victoire to squeal - though whether from delight or disgust was indeterminate - her response. In the end, it is delight, and after dinner they disappear into Remus and Tonks' living room to 'set the mood' while Harry and Ginny take to opposite ends of the kitchen, Harry carefully working flour from the counter-top while Ginny rinses dishes and bowls and dunks them in the foamy water, scrubbing with practiced strokes.

After finishing his half of the kitchen, Harry grabs a dish towel and begins wiping down the dishes stacked on the rack, earning a hip check from Ginny as she grins at him, stray bubbles caught on her lashes and nose. Leaning closer, he swipes over the suds gently before letting his hand fall to his side, though neither pulls away.

Until Teddy comes trotting in, "We're _ready_ ," he pauses, "Can we use real biscuits?"

Coughing to recover himself, Harry presses his backside to the counter and nods, "Sure, mate. Be right in."

Ginny smirks at him as she pulls a couple of packets from the pantry, "I suppose we're the wait staff?"

"I believe I'm the maitre d'," Harry replies loftily, throwing the tea towel over his shoulder and settling his hand at the small of Ginny's back so his fingertips just brush her spine - and he might imagine it, but she almost seems to shiver pleasantly at his touch.

When they arrive in the den, Teddy and Victoire are hovering around the tiny table, where _four_ chairs are tucked. Ginny apparently doesn't see where this is likely going, so she sets a few biscuits on each plastic plate and grins at the duo, "Are Mr. and Mrs. Bunny coming?"

Teddy drags one chair out and gestures for Victoire to sit in an imitation of Remus' ever present chivalry, before settling down himself. Victoire takes her seat and smiles, "I think it would be Potter, right?"

"Mum says a lady can keep her name though, so she could still be Weasley," Teddy reasons and Ginny chokes on air, dragging out her own chair.

She's almost plopped into the little wooden seat when Victoire shouts, " _No_. Harry's gotta."

Finally regaining himself, Harry takes the two strides necessary to join the trio and sits in his own chair, "Gin likes to pull out her own, yeah?"

Flushing, likely at the idea that Harry knows anything about her preferences for such things, Ginny nods and takes a steadying breath, indicative of nerves Harry would laugh about if he wasn't equally as nervous to be on a fake double date with his six-year-old godson.

Still, things do settle into an easiness that he always feels around Ginny, teasing their charges and playing along where appropriate as they each crunch on chocolate drizzled shortbread and sip faux tea.

All's well then, until Victoire pushes away from the table somewhat clumsily, almost upending their crumbly meal, and asserts primly, "I _must_ powder my nose."

Which Ginny rightly assumes the young Weasley will soon be in need of some assistance in the loo. But she plays along nonetheless, murmuring the same and making to rise from the squat table when Teddy gasps, "Dad _always_ kisses mum when she leaves the table. We gotta do it too."

Victoire flushes for a moment but presents her smooth cheek for Teddy's chaste peck, before both turn to Harry and Ginny expectantly. In their resulting mutual flustering, Harry and Ginny _both_ assume they must be the one to kiss the other and end up accidentally forgoing the peck to the cheek for a full on press of lips to lips.

Which would be embarrassing enough, but Harry sighs and knits his hand into her hair before he remembers this is _not_ a date. He pulls back no more than a breath before Ginny grabs the front of his t-shirt and nips at his bottom lip, her free hand stroking up his arm and squeezing his shoulder.

Luckily, they regain themselves - and some sanity - after only a few moments and Teddy and Victoire are characteristically impatient _and_ short in attention span, so have moved on to playing some variation of slaps.

Sitting back, Ginny's hands come to her blushing cheeks, "Bloody - I'm sorry - "

"Go out with me, Gin?"

Before she can answer, Teddy lets out a wailing cry because a certain little french woman 'slaps _too_ _hard_ ' and Ginny is already kneeling between the two, now both crying, when she grins, "Yeah, but maybe no more double dates for a bit?"


	8. S T - So why did I have to punch

By the time Sirius' second panicked whistle sounds across the dog park, Tonks has already vaulted over two dachshunds and tucked and rolled down a small hill - avoidance of tiny _packages_ due to the heavy policing of doggy bags so to speak.

With a few quick strides, Tonks arrives in time to shove Sirius aside as the second blow flies from his assailant and grabs the hulking man's fist, twisting his arm down just as he makes to slug her a second time.

Delivering a quick jab to his side and another to his jaw so he stumbles back, Tonks flexes her hand and scowls menacingly, accentuating the police academy insignia just over her heart as she straightens her shoulders.

After grabbing his impeccably groomed shih tzu, the brutish man flees, tail between legs, so to speak.

Once he's disappeared from view, Tonks finds Sirius on a nearby bench and frowns down at him with a disappointed look that would do McGonagall proud. "Care to explain _why_ I had to punch that guy?"

"Because you're a beautiful, loyal cousin with a license to kill?"

"I do not have - "

"You're closer to one than I am," Sirius teases, scratching at Padfoot's neck as he hops up onto the seat.

Ever a sucker for the dark, athletic dog, Tonks settles on his other side and scratches behind his ears, waiting out her cousin. Who _does_ have an expertise in resisting such tactics, but not an immunity, so he sighs, "Some people just don't like being wrong about Britain's Next Top Model."


	9. HG - the skirt is short on purpose

Harry prides himself on two thing: his domestic talents and his abilities of perception, so when he can utilize them together, he's pretty chuffed.

And his perceptiveness has let him realize first, that Ginny's training schedule has been almost unbearable for the last two weeks, and second, that the first responsibility to get tossed aside was her laundry.

So when he has a teacher work day and Ginny's off training again in the unseasonably hot weather, Harry lets himself into her flat and spends a good three quarters of an hour gathering her scattered garments from throughout the apartment. Trying desperately _not_ to be creepy about her underthings, because there's a difference between seeing them when she _wants_ him to and enjoying them, and seeing them now and… _anyway_.

After, he gets the first load going and pulls out the vacuum, running it across the carpet only to be met with the crackling sounds that seem to indicate a small quarry has taken up residence in the nap.

And things go well from there, freeing the bookshelves of dust, bleaching the loo 'til it's spotless, stripping her sheets in favor of a newly washed set, until Harry pushes the last set of clothes into the dryer and settles on the couch to fold the previous one.

He's about halfway through when Ginny's keys rattle in the lock and quickly, two thuds sound against the wall as she kicks her shoes off. Just as he's dropping the small garment back into the basket to greet Ginny, his heart thuds and he pulls it closer to his face. Because it's not a head band, or a belt, or an ankle wrap - he'd bloody well shrunk his girlfriend's skirt.

Sighing, Harry crumples the clothes in his fist and plasters a smile on his face, greeting a surprised Ginny with a kiss. And when she deepens it, he almost forgets the shrunken skirt burning a hole in his pocket, until her hand brushes his hip, and the soft rayon.

Pulling back, Ginny smirks, "Stealing my knickers?"

She leans in to kiss him again, already whispering teasing words in his ear that have his pulse thudding and his face heating, but he drops his forehead to her shoulder. "Actually, I tried to do your laundry."

Ginny nuzzles the side of his face, "Now I'm _definitely_ going to do what I just whispered."

Chuckling, despite his distress, Harry pulls the skirt from his pocket, "It went alright until - "

He trails off as she pulls the dark fabric from his hand, searching the surface, "Did you spill bleach on it?"

"No I - look how tiny it is," Harry explains.

Kissing his cheek, Ginny sighs, "Harry, love, it's _meant_ to be this short."

His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and Ginny lets her fingers trail down his front until they hook his waistband, tugging him toward her bedroom as she murmurs with a dangerous grin, "Let me show you."


	10. HG - I'm going to need you to put on

Harry's so wiped out from his day that when he floos home and finds Ginny using a muggle vacuum, singing at the top of her lungs and wearing nothing but one of _his_ t-shirts, he thinks he might be hallucinating - albeit pleasantly. Because there's no doubt Ginny prancing about in his shirt, hair fiery and flowing around her shoulders while she sways her hips to some old wizarding hit is a favored fantasy.

But Ginny turns over her shoulder and very quickly assures Harry of her realness when she runs her fingers through his hair and snogs the life out of him, vacuum still loud in the background. Not that Harry much cares when her tongue is doing _that_.

She pulls away all too soon for Harry's tastes, flicking off the vacuum just as it sucks up the corner of the rug. When she stands, Harry refocuses his gaze as she grins at him, "You'll never guess my news!"

Harry watches as she bounces a bit on her toes - distractingly so - and sighs as he scrunches his eyes closed, "I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."


	11. JL - Quick and flirty professor AU

Lily rounds the corner toward her office and runs directly into a large, warm body, nearly tossing the books retrieved from Madam Pince onto the perpetually damp dungeon floor. Luckily, she does keep her grip - at least on the physical objects - while two broad hands grip her upper arms. "Alright, Evans?"

"Where have I heard that before?" Lily, drawls, hopefully hiding the way her heart thuds at his closeness.

"I've no idea," James replies loftily, "Perhaps a certain devastatingly charming Gryffindor during your formative years?"

Resettling her books in her arms, Lily smirks, "Devastatingly _dorky_ more like."

James follows along at her side, letting his fingertips trail along the dark stone walls, "You sound more like Sirius every day."

"You take that back," Lily grumps, flicking her wand in a complex pattern before producing a worn key from the depths of her robes and unlocking her office door.

He laughs, following her inside without waiting for invitation, and settles in one of the rather cozy armchairs tucked in front of her small fireplace where they've spent more evenings chatting together than Lily would care to admit. James flicks his wand and brings the fire up, "I've gotten a letter from Charlie's mum again."

" _You_ were the one who wanted to be Head," Lily teases, dropping the large tomes on her desk and pulling out her stashed firewhisky along with two tumblers.

"Don't act like you didn't want it too," James laughs, "And McGonagall only picked me to keep things neat."

"Ah yes, Mr. Adjunct."

" _Temporary_ \- I have all the rights and privileges of a permanent member of the faculty," James corrects, accepting the perhaps too generous drink without batting an eye.

"Anyway, Mrs. Weasley?" Lily prompts, kicking her heels off and raising her feet to warm in front of the fire.

"Charlie's got to bring his Potions grade up or she wants him off the Quidditch team," James pronounces darkly like a death sentence.

Lily's browns rise, "And how can I help you?"

"I don't know, usually the red headed Potions Mistress is pretty agreeable," James answers cheekily, "Seen her around?"

"My grading has been _entirely_ fair," Lily asserts, squaring her jaw and daring him to contradict.

James raises his hands defensively, "And I would never suggest otherwise," Lily calms and he relaxes his shoulders, "I just want to know what has to be done."

"What would you do with _your_ kid?" Lily questions, wriggling her socked toes and tugging the pins from her hair so it cascades around her shoulders distractingly.

Taking a deep breath, James blinks rapidly and refocuses, "Congratulate him on a well played game last Saturday? Maybe buy him a celebratory gift?"

"Not if _I_ have anything to say about it," Lily laughs, topping off her glass so she doesn't see James' mischievous expression.

"So planning on having something to do with rearing my future sprogs, eh?"

Jolting so she spills her firewhisky across her front in a dark slash across her front, Lily stutters, "I- I _am_ the Potions Mistress."

" _Or_ you want to have my babies," James posits, leaning closer and batting his eyes flirtatiously.

Lily stands abruptly, patting at her damp front and _studiously_ avoiding eye contact, hoping to at least not have to _see_ James seeing her embarrassed flush. She doesn't realize he's followed until she turns back toward the fireplace and is faced with his bobbing Adam's apple. "Alright Evans?"

She swallows nervously, "We've done this already, yeah?"

James nods, slow, so his nose brushes her temple, and somehow Lily gravitates closer so her hair tickles his jawline.

His hands rise, one to her hip and the other cupping her cheek, "Are you?"

"Am I what?" Lily nearly whispers.

Face tilting closer, James' lips tease hers without _actually_ following through on the promise in his eyes, "Alri-"

"Professor Evans - bloody hell!"

"Charlie!"

"Professor Potter! You said you'd _talk_ to her," Charlie squeaks.

Lily drops her forehead to James' shoulder, "How long until Christmas Hols?"


	12. JL - You need to stop leaving dead

A/N: REALLY SORRY if you got like a million notifications about these chapters but hopefully you'll have enjoyed them all so much it won't matter?

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James drops his head back and sighs, "You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen, Lil."

She giggles against his bare chest, tickling at the sparse hairs with nimble fingers. "S'not my fault you've let your stamina go in your old age."

Pinching her side, James frowns, "I'm not even - you're _older_."

"Exactly, so you should be helping _me_ along, grandpa," Lily teases, sitting up rather distractingly, though she seems at least _intent_ on appearing unaware, "And since when is it _your_ kitchen?"

After shuffling around the cabinets, Lily finds a bottle of whiskey and pours herself a glass, tilting it toward James questioningly. He nods, righting his spectacles and finally locating his pants where they've caught on one of the knobs - on the upper row of cabinets - and slips them over his hips.

For herself, Lily seems completely unabashed in her nakedness, though James can't in truthfulness say _he's_ unaffected. And since she seems intent on post-coital drinks and witty banter, he tosses her his abandoned t-shirt in the name of his own sanity. " _My_ kitchen since you've got the unbelievable ability to _burn water_."

"One time," Lily grumps, taking a slow drag of her drink, "And people trust me to _cut them open_ \- but you won't let me help you with the Saturday fry-up."

James laughs, pulling his drink closer, "I trust you with my life," Lily quirks her brow, finally tugging the dark blue shirt over her head covering up swathes of milky skin - though it doesn't do much in the way of hiding her muscled legs. And then James is _absolutely_ sure she knows what she's doing, and he's even more certain he's _infinitely_ ok with it. She rounds the island and frames his hips with her arms, hands on the counter-top and James gulps, "Just not my eggs."


	13. RH - You are so cute, like a human cat

The kids have finally been wrangled to sleep after _two_ bedtime stories - Ron spoils them - an extra trip to the loo for Rose and a glass of water for Hugo, and Hermione's finally settling down with a surprisingly _non_ -work related tome. Though it _is_ the size of a small dog.

Still, her brain is getting a much needed chance to decompress. Particularly since Ron's been hit with a horrendous bout of the flu and completely out of commission for all work and parenting duties. Because the only thing more difficult than temporarily single parenting it while _also_ nursing Ron back to health is Ron trying to help and getting two children under the age of _seven_ sick as well.

So after a full day of work - sometimes wrangling adults in politics is worse than children - and then herding the children home and Ron into bed and away from the cleaning supplies and his strange fever-induced need to clean, Hermione's earned a moment to kick her feet up.

Just as the heroine is about to rappel from the castle window with her stolen jewels, Hermione's jostled from her reading by a red headed Weasley nuzzling her side.

She smiles softly, fingers combing through the fiery silken hair, before slipping to press at his forehead. "Fever's down a bit."

"I took th' medicine you said to," Ron murmurs, sniffling tiredly.

Scratching at his scalp, Hermione teases, "That'd be a first, eh?"

Ron snorts, but cuddles closer. "Don' be mean. I'm _sick_."

"You're cute," Hermione corrects, letting her book drop to the couch - though not before marking her place.

He grunts, "Don't call me cute."

"You're _so_ cute," she continues, "Like a human cat."


	14. L S - Cooking in China is more dangerous

A/N: all your comments are filling my heart. I'm glad you're enjoying :)

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"So you got a broken wrist, while studying Chinese cuisine," Lily asks, dubious, as she signs his cast.

Sirius snorts, "Cooking in China is more dangerous than you think."

Lily hums noncommittally as Sirius lets his head rest against her shoulder, "S'true Evans."

Patting his knee, Lily sighs, "Ah yes, so it _didn't_ have anything to do with that Snap Chat you sent about becoming an 'expert' skateboarder while you were away?"

"Of course not," Sirius scoffs as London whizzes past, "Though my budding career has been tragically cut short by injury."

She rolls her eyes, "Of course - wrist injuries are the _bane_ of any skateboarder's life."

"Why couldn't _James_ pick me up?" Sirius wines, "He'd have drawn a dick on my cast, messed up my hair, and then bought milkshakes on the way home."

"Sorry, your sugar daddy has to work sometime," Lily snorts as the taxi turns down the street toward their building, slowing as the driver pulls toward the curb.

" _If_ I had a sugar daddy, he'd certainly not be such a scrawny git," Sirius grumps as they alight from the taxi and Lily shoulders his luggage.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you," Lily teases as they make their way toward the lifts.

Leaning back against the side wall of the lift when they step inside, Sirius smirks and pats his carry-on with his uninjured hand. "Don't insult the man with the imported alcohol, yeah?"


	15. M - 75 sure this won't explode

James pauses, fist hovering over the slowly bubbling cauldron as the electric green potion reflects onto his jawline, giving him the appearance of a sickly complexion. He rights his fogging glasses and blinks at his cohorts, "I'm about seventy-five percent certain this won't explode."

Sirius nods, unconcerned while Remus stares at him blandly before doing a horrid - it excellent depending on who's being asked - impression of a certain bespectacled fourth year, "'Oh dad and me do this all the time, Remus. Not to worry Remus.'"

Pitching his tone down, James scowls as his glasses slip lower again, "I do not sound like that."

Sighing, Peter inches closer, "I think the question is, how much do we really need to catch whoever is snatching Remus' candy stash."

Sirius nods contemplative, "Lets put it to the man himself," he glances at Remus, "Do you love chocolate enough - " he pauses for effect, "To have a twenty-five percent chance of dismemberment and/or death."


	16. JL - That is the tenth demon summoning

A/N: I'm so glad you're all enjoying these :) Feel free to go find me on tumblr and send me prompts from that list if you want! I'll cut off eventually I suppose, but idk when. I guess when it's a nice number of chapters to end on lol.

This is a weird Jily paranormal something or other AU.

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The siren had been installed after Jergens fell asleep and almost missed a four alarm spectre 'event' and Lily had been cursing his name ever since. Particularly when she's working the overnight and the shrill honking sounds for the third time in her shift.

James' head falls to the desk, thudding in rhythm with the siren while Lily makes her way across the office in a few quick strides, plugging her ears until she flips the switch off. "Bloody Jergens."

As the wailing ceases, James grunts his agreement from beneath his crossed arms, muffled against the desktop. Chuckling, Lily eyes the map, then the pulls the detailed alert up, "Shite - that is the tenth demon summoning this week."

Lily grabs their packs from the hooks in the corner, tossing James' with enough force that he huffs out a breath, grinning wryly, "Watch it, Potter."

"Does the concept of 'secret marriage' evade your comprehension?" Lily teases, holding the door open behind her before slipping into the driver's seat.

Sliding into his own side, James clicks the belt into place across his waist, "I can keep a secret well enough - when I've got good reason."

The garage door rises and Lily peels up the ramp, flicking the overhead siren on as she pulls out onto the street. "Seemed good reason enough when we fooled around in the cupboard last week and no one suspected."

"Frank is gonna kill me when he finds out we went through the entire dating - engagement - marriage cycle without telling anyone."

Lily turns abruptly down a small side street. "Not like Moody gives a rat's arse what we do, so long as we do our job."

Tilting his head in acquiescence, James laughs, "Still, there's quite the pool going."

She sends him a dangerous sideways glance - the kind that drove him crazy since the first day they'd been paired in training and she'd followed the expression up with a quick uppercut to his jaw - before turning her attention fully back to the road, "True - and Jergens had us married by the end of the year. And I'll annul our marriage before I let bloody Rip Van Winkle win."


	17. C G - Why exactly do you need chloroform

Charlie picks his way up the creaky stairs, avoiding the weak spots with accuracy despite the years spent living in Romania. Still, he pulls out his wand once he reaches George's room, wordlessly silencing the hinges - lest they squeal - and steps into the dark room.

Blindly finding his way to the double window, he pulls back the dark curtain just enough to let the pearly moonlight slide across the worn carpet. " _George_."

A grunt.

Nudging his shoulder none to gently, Charlie whispers again, loud as he dares given the full house, " _George_."

"You bloody well better have a good reason for this," George finally grumbles, somewhat muffled against his pillow.

"You've got muggle stuff 'round here, right?"

"Much as I enjoy vague questions at," George finally cracks an eye open and peers at his beat up alarm clock, "Two in the morning."

Apparently dispensing with kindness, Charlie flicks the bedside lamp on and plops on the spare bit of mattress by George's hip, "Chloroform."

"And _why_ exactly do you need chloroform at two a.m.?" George asks, eyes widening.

Trying not to let the excitement of shocking George Fabian Weasley with a scheme get to him, Charlie murmurs, "Got a new _guest_ for the reserve outside and I'd rather mum not wake up to a wild baby dragon outside her window."

"One condition," George says and after Charlie tilts his head in question, he sits up fully, rummaging in the trunk nestled at the foot of his bed, "The newest resident gets a dashing name - like Gred, or Forge."


	18. JL - I may have sort of accidentally

A/N: I can't stop thinking about James Potter with a bunch of kittens.

* * *

She really _should_ be angry. But Lily Potter _nee_ Evans would defy even the hardest hearted individual to keep a straight face when presented with the image of James Ignotius Potter covered in…one, two, three - _five_ kittens crawling all over him.

The Snap Chat had been enough temptation that she'd decided to forgo her usual late night at the office for once and finds herself off the train and at the door of their flat just shy of half past six.

" _James_."

A chuckle, and then James' response come from the sitting room, "Yes, love?"

Lily drops her things haphazardly through the flat until she arrives at the doorway to the living room and if she thought the _pictures_ were something to behold well -

"I"m trying really hard to be cross with you," Lily sighs, folding her arms over her chest.

One of the kittens - dark and speckled - pounces on James' curly hair, knocking his glasses askew as he blinks up at her, grinning cheekily, "Why be cross when you can be _cuddled_?"

Tossing her blazer aside, Lily squats until she's settled next to James on the floor, backs to the couch front. "So."

James passes one silken kitten, black and playful, to Lily, waiting for it to nuzzle under her chin before he parrots, "So."

Her brow quirks, as she receives soft kitten licks to the underside of her jaw and James sighs, "I _may_ have sort of accidentally," he pauses, before slurring the last, "adopted five cats."


	19. HG - Who wouldn't be angry you ate all

A/N: this is how I try angst. I'm not very good at it.

* * *

Ginny's already on edge when she pushes the door open and sees the kitchenette light orange and glowing in the otherwise darkened flat, so when there's a clatter followed by two slams of the cabinets, she's treading lightly and slowly slipping her cricket bat from the umbrella stand.

Still, there's no sign of forced entry, so she's betting Ron had a late night at the precinct and decided he couldn't be bothered to get _home_ before a midnight snack. Which doesn't mean he hasn't earned a good swift smack with the business end of her cricket bat - or at least the threat of it.

But when she rounds the corner, make-shift weapon poised over her shoulder, Ginny lets out a small surprised gasp while the bat thuds to the floor.

The intruder turns abruptly, and Ginny's chest clenches when she's faced with those eyes, green and wide as always - if a bit more tired than last time she saw them - drink her in from head to toe. He clears his throat, standing abruptly so his chair clatters awkwardly beneath him, " _Gin_."

"Harry," she intones, slow.

He ruffles his hair, nervous and boyish, "How are y-"

"How am I." Ginny states, voice pitching higher, " _How am I?"_

Her chest is rising and falling, brows furrowed and altogether putting on a rather intimidating front if she does say so herself - though Harry's small smirk calls that assertion into question. "You're angry."

"I'm - " Ginny's brain shorts out for a minute as she storms further into the kitchen, grabbing the still open cereal box and gripping it roughly so a few puffs fly from the packaging, "Of bloody course I am."

When Harry doesn't respond beyond darting his gaze over her heated face, which she can feel warming for an entirely new reason other than the anger bubbling in her veins. But she doesn't let that keep her from riding the wave of her frustration, "You - who _wouldn't_ be angry," Harry tenses at her growl, "You ate all my cereal," she tosses the mostly empty box at his chest, " _And_ you faked your death for three years."

Blinking, Harry straightens his glasses and tries to subtly eye her left hand - beautifully free - before he corrects, "More like two."

"Are you bloody serious?" Ginny nearly shrieks, striding closer so she can shove his chest.

He accepts the blows, at least the first few, before he grabs hold of her hands and holds them to his chest. She stills, chest still rising and falling with her exertions, and keeps her gaze pinned to the third button down his shirtfront. Harry rubs her fingers absently, "You've not got a ring."

"Well-spotted."

"Dean and you - ?" Harry trails off.

"Didn't last much past when you left," Ginny continues, inching closer almost imperceptibly.

Hesitantly, Harry nuzzles her hairline, breathing a sigh of relief when she doesn't pull away. "So you're - "

"Still angrier than a -" she sucks in a breath as Harry's lips brush her temple, and stutters, "Something that's quite angry."

Harry kisses her cheekbone, nods against her ear, "I understand."

Ginny pulls back, brow furrowed and eyes blazing, "We're going to talk about this - all of it."

Nodding, Harry begins to release her, letting her hands go and stepping away, penitence heavy on his brow. But Ginny grabs his collar before he gets far, "And we will," her hand slides to cup his jawline, " _Tomorrow_."


	20. HG - I understand the whole sleep

A/N: domestic and hopefully satisfyingly fluffy :)

* * *

At first, Harry thought generally being overtired and overworked had him imagining Ginny's sleep talking. Because if he thought being an Auror - or even a wanted man before that - was the most tiring reality, he was a fool.

James Sirius is an adorable, giggling ball of grubby fingers, chubby cheeks, and altogether a magnet for trouble. And while he'd choose a day of wrangling the youngest Potter over a day wrangling dark arts wannabes, he'd be remiss to say the former wasn't the more tiring of the two.

As most can attest, sleep deprivation does strange things to people - Harry's had his fair share of moody days at the office since the birth of his and Ginny's sprog - but the strangest happening since becoming new parents wasn't from his trouble-making son.

It actually started during the pregnancy, Ginny murmuring to herself in her sleep. And Harry really did think he was imagining things, or perhaps dreaming himself. Until he came home late one night, the bedside lamp still lit and Ginny having a full fledged conversation with him. Which wouldn't be that odd, save the fact that the conversation started well before he arrived and was conducted entirely in her sleep.

She doesn't do it every night, and sometimes it's just short little snippets of conversation. Just enough for Harry to tease her when the occasion arises - usually when she prods him for _using_ the frilly hairband Ron gave him as a gag gift. But once she's a few months gone with their second child, it gets odd.

Firstly, she's apparently having some sort of _recurring_ dream, and secondly, dream Ginny seems to be under the impression that Harry's a princess. And a dragon.

So he lets it go as long as he can, until she starts _crying_ in her sleep.

He tries to rouse her gently, brushing his fingers along her bare arm and murmuring her name. But Ginny sleeps like the dead and she's _still_ teary so he shakes her a bit more firmly, " _Gin_."

Finally, she rouses, sucking in a breath and tensing under his hand, eyes wide and confused. Harry lets his hand trail up her arm, eventually brushing the tears away from her cheeks as Ginny blinks blearily. "'s it James?"

Harry cards his fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her sweaty temple. "Nah, love."

Her brow furrows and Harry smiles softly, teasingly, in the hopes of coaxing a smile out. And she does, smile that is, and brings her hand to hold his in place against her cheek. "Did I wake you, with the talking?"

Shaking his head, Harry climbs fully into the bed and lies down, mirroring her position and snuggling closer. "I understand the whole sleep talking bit."

Ginny snorts and he continues, "Just - you've been having a recurring one. Involving a princess dragon and - me?"

"Well that's not too odd, considering our history," Ginny answers, alluding to a certain incident in a certain chamber.

"Actually," Harry hems, "It seemed _I_ was the princess...dragon."

Snuggling closer, Ginny pillows her head on Harry's chest and sighs, "You _are_ quite wealthy - some would say wizarding royalty."

Harry snickers and Ginny murmurs, "And James is always asking for stories about you."

"But this is your psyche," Harry cuts in, "Do I act like a dragon? Do you think of me as _dragon_?"

She doesn't answer right away, and Harry's not quite sure if she's avoiding the question or finally drifted off, but when she answers, it seems she was simply considering. And if he thought she'd dismiss his concerns well - "You _are_ a bit of a broody one," she posits, tiredly, as if she's drifting off again, mumbling against his breastbone as her fingers caress his chest, "And you do get heartburn - does that count as breathing fire?"


	21. RH HG - I can't believe I'm sitting in

A/N: space AU that might only make sense to me

* * *

Hermione scuffs her beat up boot against the metallic floor, forgoing her usual excellent posture in the face of her tiredness. "I can't believe I'm sitting in _space_ jail with you," she eyes her companion chained in the adjacent cell, "of all - people."

"Though I s'pose you're not people," Hermione sighs, fingers aching for her weapon or - _something_.

A rustle, some creaking, but she gets no more response than that. She drops her head back against the wall, "You really need to keep your responses down," her eyes drift closed, "If they know you're - "

Her train of thought is cut off as a few yelps ring from down the corridor, followed by a familiar shout, "We're coming 'Mione!"

"Get ready for our victorious exit," Hermione says with a smile, and the vehicle winks a headlamp at her - as much as possible - already floating a bit in anticipation.

"We're ready," she nears the bars and grips them impatiently, "Better have what we came for, boys."

The Anglia toots cheerily in agreement and Ron finally rounds the corner, "Got the bloody stone _and_ managed to pick up something else along the way. He tilts his head just as Harry rounds the corner, a more diminutive Weasley thrown over his shoulder.

Ginny's got her elbow propped against Harry's back, "Welcome back Hermione - please tell your brutish cohorts to release me."

Ron fishes a stolen ring of key cards from his pocket and begins testing them on the lock in quick succession while Harry pats Ginny's hip, "I'll let you down when we've got your word about running off. It's dangerous for you to be out and about."

"Says one member of the infamous trio each with a price on their head higher than the last," Ginny sighs, but pats his shoulder, "I won't run."

"Please do stay," Hermione says as they all pile into the Anglia and Ron brings it to life after a few tries, "We really could use a mechanic."


	22. JL - I hope you know my name is actually

this is a bit more _adult_ than my usual, but still nothing actually happens…

* * *

She'd never been one for trysts in the woods, but sometimes you see an irresistible pair of hazel eyes and then find yourself pressed against rough bark, fingers buried in wild inky black locks.

A sigh breaks from her lips as his descend over her neck, slow and teasing so her pulse thuds and her breathing quickens. He chuckles against her ear and murmurs, "Alright there, Evans?"

Tugging at his hair a bit harder, drawing a gasp from him and throwing off his balance enough that she's able to press _him_ against another tree and perform her own ministrations. She presses a few heated kisses to his lips, their breaths mingling as his fingers loosen the pins that hold her hair in place.

After working her way toward his ear, she nips at the lobe, "I'd hope by now you know my name."

"'Course I do," he grunts as her hands work the tails of his shirt free, " _Lily_ \- I know both parts."

His fingers trip over the mother of pearl buttons skirting over her spine, and she nearly loses her train of thought, breath catching. "So far it seems you've got _half_ right, James."

Slowly, he drags his hand down her bare arm, fingers gripping her palm and bringing it to press to his lips, then tilting it so her rings glint in the moonlight. "Lily _Potter_."

She grips his collar, pressing her grin against his, short and sweet this time as they stumble a bit further away from the party, "I'd really like to ravish you right here; but we _do_ have guests."

"As best man, I made it perfectly clear that keeping everyone busy should we 'disappear' was part of his detailed duties," James murmurs, pulling her closer by the small of her back as he braces his free arm against the tree trunk.

"Sounds official."

"Did you really think I'd give Sirius unchecked authority?"

Lily grips his hips and tugs him further toward her. "Excellent point. You'll make an excellent father."

"Eager to make a contribution to the genetic pool with me?"

Groaning as he resumes his exploration of her collarbone, Lily smirks, deft hands finding his belt buckle, "I wouldn't be opposed to a practice go of it."


	23. JL - Fuck I feel like I got hit by a car

:) I like this one (prompt and how it came). Hope you do too. I'm glad you've all been enjoying them so far! I definitely agree about wanting some to go longer, but I'm trying to stick to the drabble length. Though maybe I'll revisit sometime...

* * *

Most first dates are odd, fumbling affairs with uneasy glances and hesitant hands. And that's the _good_ ones. Bad dates are tense, uncomfortable, and basically send James' digestive tract into fits.

Which is why he's never been much for blind dates. Too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. But honestly, despite his often overactive imagination, he'd never have bet on waking up in hospital with a skull splitting head ache and no recollection of what got him there. Apart from a horrid date. But no one's ever died of awkwardness - right?

Finally, he gets the gumption up to lift his eye lids and inspect his visible injuries. He can feel a few bumps, bruises, and scrapes, but it seems beyond whatever's wrong with his head and his apparently broken arm he's escaped relatively unscathed, as these things go.

He's about to let his lids drop closed again, already tired from the minimal exertions of _being alive_ when his eyes catch on a red head - bloody hell.

"Fuck."

She startles in her seat, legs dropping from her chest as her feet find the floor. "James."

"I feel like I've been hit by a car," he groans, eyes drifting shut, and when a tense silence settles, he cracks one open again, "Wait Lily - was I?"

Grimacing, Lily nods, "Maybe a bit?"

Scrunching his face, despite the ache it sends through his head, James fights to recall - "Wait - it was _you_? Was the date bad enough for vehicular manslaughter?"

"Bloody - this is what drives me _batty_ about you," Lily growls, flushing, "So melodramatic."

"Not melodramatic enough to _run you over_ after our train wreck of a blind date," James murmurs, wincing as he tries to quirk a brow.

She lets her lips quirk in a smile at that, shuffling her chair closer and perching on the end. "Doesn't quite count if half the party doesn't _know_ it's a date."

"Sirius is an ass sometimes," James answers, frowning sadly, "I've - I didn't," he sighs, "Everyone knows how I feel; about you."

Lily's eyes dart to his and she busies herself by fumbling his cracked glasses into place on the bridge of his nose, fingers lingering at his cheek for a moment too long. But she pulls them away before James can read too much into it.

Still, he's not going to lose his chance to _explain_. "I would've done a great deal of things to take you on a date. Just not lie."

"You wanted to - you seemed so angry, I thought Sirius was trying to tease me," Lily answers, brow furrowed in confusion, "I got a little tipsy and may've _confessed_ some things."

James nearly chokes on his tongue, but manages to get his wits about him, grasping Lily's hand where it lies on the scratchy coverlet. "He means well, yeah?"

Stiffening for a moment, Lily eventually relaxes her hand in his and sighs, "I s'pose his intentions are alright enough. though his methods are something to reconsider."

He pulls her closer by the hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, answering with more of a question than a statement in his voice, "I dunno, it went well enough here?"

Sighing, Lily shifts to sit on his bedside, pressing a short kiss to the corner of his lips, "You're in a hospital bed and my car has a James-shaped dent in the bumper."

"What's loss of chattles and limbs in the face of life-long happiness, Evans?"


	24. RT - Quick catch that cat it stole my

:) hope these are still bringing you all smiles :)

* * *

"You know I think everyone has thoughts about embarrassing ways to end up in a police station," Remus murmurs while the officer makes notes, "But I really don't think this ever crossed anyone's mind."

A small smirk ticks up the corner of Tonks' mouth as she finishes scrawling the last sentence. "And you didn't manage to lessen the embarrassment by running up to me in the street making a spectacle of yourself."

He snorts, sipping at the weak tea one of the officers passed him while he waited for the complaint to be processed. "I merely attempted to make law enforcement aware of a crime in progress."

Tonks drops her pen to the desk, fingers finding the bright pink stress ball she always keeps on hand, "By shouting 'Quick, catch that cat! It stole my wallet'?"

Remus flushes but holds her gaze, "Well it did."

Biting back a laugh, Tonks straightens and scoots her chair back with a creak of the castor wheels. "I'll just get this statement processed and then you'll be ready to go."

By the time she's passed off the paperwork to Stephens, Tonks is expecting Remus - _Mr. Lupin_ \- to have moved back to the waiting area, but finds him still waiting at her desk, coat on and phone in hand, lighting his face with a blue glow. He startles, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Officer Tonks."

"Mr. Lupin," she parrots, just as officious.

She ushers him toward the front office, grabs her dark leather jacket, and leads the way out the door and into the early evening light before he finally speaks. "I do have one final request of my neighborhood bobby."

Her brows rise, taking in his mischievous expression and inviting him to continue. Remus takes a step closer, hands tucked in his pockets loosely. "I still feel a bit nervous with the dangerous -"

"Cats."

" _Criminals_ about," Remus drawls, eyes twinkling playfully, "I would feel much better if I could get an escort home."

A wind whips down the rapidly darkening street, sending the fallen leaves rustling. "Well, I'm technically off duty as of now," Tonks gestures over her shoulder, perhaps batting her eyes a bit more than usual, "but I can get someone else."

Remus shifts closer and Tonks' throat bobs, "If you wouldn't mind doing me the service, even off the clock, I could buy you a coffee for your troubles."

Maintaining an even, low, businesslike tone, Tonks folds her arms across her chest. "I'd like to snog you, Remus Lupin, and I'd rather not have an audience," her eyes dart to her colleagues milling about nosily, "So if we could move this along."


	25. F & G - I understand the whole sleep

WOO. THIS ISN'T AU ITS REAL YES

* * *

George and Fred have shared a room since - well if you count their time _in utero_ …it's been a long time. Which means they've been there for it all: nightmares, bed wetting, insomnia, and in George's case, Fred's sleep talking. And though they don't share such close quarters any more on a regular basis, staying at the Burrow for the holidays is a fair guarantee that they'll be snuggled up together once again.

The talking though, tends to be short little blurbs of conversation, if it can be _called_ that, usually unintelligible snippets with varied emotions from extreme anger to uninhibited elation.

This particular evening, it's both complete sentences and something close to happiness, but the meaning remains elusive. Still, it's nice when Fred dreams about something other than Death Eaters and destruction - which is less often than most would think this long after the war.

After a moment of hesitation, George glances at the clock on his nightstand - the same one with some strange foreign cartoon Charlie sent from Romania his first year abroad - and sees it's just three-oh-five. He grabs a make shift projectile from the floor and lobs it at Fred's bum. "Oi!"

Fred leaps from the bed and thuds to the floor with a groan, "What the hell, George?"

"Oh, you're awake?" George asks, mock innocence making his tone sickly sweet, "It just so happens I have a question for you, lovely brother-of-mine."

Growling, Fred tosses the quaffle back and would have made excellent contact with George's head if not for their freaky twin 'I know what you're going to do next' connection and plops back onto his mussed sheets. "What."

"As you know, I tolerate and understand the whole sleep talking bit," George begins, with uncharacteristic gravity, "But why are you having a princess dragon dream - and why am _I_ in it?"


	26. LJ - I slapped your ass in greeting

I had this mostly written for a long time and I kept thinking OH MAKE IT LONG and then I was like, no, lets add it to the lil fics so here you go xD

* * *

Lily starts smacking Sirius' butt as a joke. They're knee deep in World History notes just before midterms when the men's football team jogs by in unsettling unison and the team captain rounds their formation and gives one of his teammates a playful pat on the rump, urging the stragglers to pick up speed. Which is a thing that sports teams have apparently decided to accept as normal. And if it's normal for sports friends to do it, why can't _study_ friends do it too?

And since it's mid terms, Lily's sleep deprived, and Sirius has next to no impulse control, they start ass-smacking the other at the beginning of study sessions, when one gets up to go to the loo or to find a snack, and eventually, just anytime they see each other.

Now, considering all the harmful – and usually illegal – ways that their peers let off steam, this really didn't seem too bad.

Until today.

Because Lily pushed into Sirius' flat – he's forever leaving the door unlocked despite her begging – and found him presenting his arse rather magnificently from where he's crouched beneath the telly, fiddling with whatever wires are tangled underneath. And she can't help but notice his buns are a bit more _firm_ than usual so she gives them a second pat and teases, "Nice ass you've got going. Getting ready to play the field?"

And then Sirius stands up to face her – and he's not Sirius. He's – _familiar_.

"Actually, yeah, thanks for noticing," not Sirius says with a grin, looking a bit cocky despite the blush on his cheeks. In his defense, it would be hard _not_ to be cocky when a stranger cups your bum and compliments it. "We 'play the field' against Durmstrang next week."

Lily can feel her face heat, taking slight comfort in his teasing but friendly tone, but still, she can't quite get a coherent apology out, "I'm – I thought – "

"Lily! Why is James smirking?" Sirius calls from the door, kicking it shut behind him.

Embarrassment giving way to frustration, Lily pivots to turn the full power of her glare on Sirius. "When are you going to start _locking your bloody front door_?"

"We have a doorman," Sirius shrugs.

"Well the doorman doesn't keep me from smacking James' – " Lily cuts herself off but the damage has already been done, according to Sirius' entirely too jubilant grin.

"You smacked James in the arse because you thought it was me."

"Which is a bit offensive, you skinny arsed punk," James drawls, "I have a couple of beautifully rounded globes."

And surprisingly, Sirius absorbs the blow to his ego with only a bare twitch of his lips. "Like a work of art, they are."

And since today is decidedly _not_ her day, Lily's eyes glaze over and she hums her agreement.


	27. HG - Ginny sucks

A/N: pseudo prompt from tumblr lol. but it's funny and I think I poked the proverbial bear so woo.

* * *

Since cropping up in his dreams and daydreams the summer before sixth year, Ginny Weasley has consistently somehow managed to outdo Harry's fantasies. Which is saying something, because his imagination can run fairly wild (see his Divination homework) and he's head over arse for one Ginevra Molly Weasley. And really, he'd thought that nearly a decade in to a relationship, he'd seen most and definitely fantasized about the rest.

Until she spots a muggle fast food restaurant advertising the must have for battling the summer heat and drags Harry inside with an excited grin.

Hands rising to pat his pockets, Ginny swipes his muggle money wallet and drags him toward the counter, squinting up at the menu.

"Harry, it's ice cream with sweets in it." And just to be sure he gets it, she points emphatically and begins counting his money, "Twenty should be enough for two, yeah?"

"I'd say more like four," Harry says with a chuckle, "We've been over this."

"Yeah but I like when you go all 'disappointed professor', it really butters my biscuits."

He flushes a bit at the cashier's raised brows —Ginny's loud and they're next—and maneuvers his wife up to the counter. "Two of the Mc-"

Fairly uninterested now that they've stopped clogging the line, the frowning teenager—apparently called Dennis—interrupts. "Cookie, peanut butter-"

"The one with the colored bits please," Ginny puts in excitedly, returning the favor.

Harry smiles as she tucks herself into his side and eyes the options, "Peanut butter? And larges for both, please."

Dennis blinks tiredly, "Name for the order?"

And really, this lead up to the moment Harry nearly had a Ginny-induced aneurysm is misleading in its banality, but all too regular when the minx is your wife. After knowing her most of his life, it's still difficult to predict when she's about to drive you out of your mind with worry or — something else.

Something else like a very thick milkshake and a wide red straw. Because like everything in her life, Ginny attacks the dessert with gusto, berry red lips wrapping around the plastic as she draws the creamy snack into her mouth.

In an attempt to control himself, and hopefully keep his focus from that freckle he finds entirely too attractive, Harry busies himself with his own drink, stirring it with the large spoon provided and taking a large mouthful with it, saving the straw for the milkshake's more melty state.

Until Ginny moans, and then with the moaning and the sucking and her hair wild around her heat flushed face —

"Having a good time, Gin?" Harry finally manages to squeak out, voice more like his prepubescent days.

And ten years means Harry's still a mess and Ginny knows all too well, so she smirks at him across the slightly sticky table and lets the straw brush her lips as she murmurs in a low voice, "I'm very good at sucking."

"Bloody good at torture, is what you are," Harry groans as she licks a bit of whipped cream from her finger, gaze never leaving his.

Quirking a brow, she leans forward, letting her fingers trace up his forearm while she breathes into his ear, "Whatever I make hurt, I'll always kiss it better."


	28. HG - Elevated Heart Rate

A/N: Taking little mini prompts on tumblr based on the premise: _**Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)**_. If you want to comment one here or head over there, I'll try and do it :)

* * *

When the gorgeous, funny, cheeky woman of Harry's dreams tells him to take off his shirt, he's a little disappointed that it's for entirely clinical purposes. Though he _is_ moderately comforted by the fact that he hasn't skipped the gym in the last month so his muscle tone is fairly above average.

But she's depressingly professional. Which is good, but also bad. He's experiencing complicated emotions that are causing sweat to pool in strange places; further complicating the issue of one Dr. Weasley.

Life would be better if he had stuck with his elderly pediatric doctor but once you reach your mid-twenties and sit in a childrens' doctor's office with no child in tow - he had to move on.

While all of this internal angst is pounding through his mind, Harry _does_ manage to mechanically tug his t-shirt overhead and bunch it up in his hands nervously.

Dr. Weasley offers him a kind smile and blows a hot breath onto the end of her stethoscope and winks at him. "Got to warm it up a bit."

Harry nods jerkily a few seconds too late, but she's already pressing the disk to his back, instructing him to breath, and then moving around his front.

Frowning, Dr. Weasley presses the stethoscope to his chest once more before pulling the earpieces free. "Are you - when was the last time you had a full check-up."

"Er- a year ago? I'm not particularly good at keeping track," Harry answers, trying not to notice the gentle curve of her neck where red wisps escape from her bun and twist beneath her collar.

"I think we should run a few tests - just as a precaution - because your heart rate's a bit elevated for my liking."

Flushing, Harry blows out a steadying breath, "I need a new doctor."

She looks a bit taken aback, and perhaps disappointed, but her jaw clenches. "There'll be no out of pocket expenses - it really is the best course of action. Heart problems diagnosed early can - "

" _I think you're brilliant and fit and I can't date my doctor_ ," Harry blurts, pressing his face into his crumpled shirt and contemplating whether he can recall the way to the car lot without emerging from his cocoon.

Chilled fingers curl around his wrists and tug his hands away from his face so Harry's green eyes are entirely too close to a pair of whiskey colored ones he might drown in. "Mr. Potter - _Harry_ \- I have a lovely, slightly eccentric colleague who is married and more than willing to take on a new patient."

"Give me her card when we meet for coffee, yeah?"

"Smooth," Dr. Weasley - Ginny - comments with a laugh, "Didn't know you had it in you."


	29. HG - You ate all my cereal part 2

A/N: Gonna do a little bit of Ginny getting some answers from her previously missing Harry. It's angsty what have I done?

* * *

When Harry wakes hours later, a slice of moonlight bright in his eyes through the still open curtains, he _really_ has to use the facilities. Which usually isn't a complicated issue that requires weighing pros and cons. But Ginny's tucked about as close as possible, spine curved into the sway of his chest and they still haven't talked about their whole 'you disappeared for almost two years and then showed up to eat my breakfast foods' issue.

So he really _does_ try and think of an alternative to prying himself from the bed - which he doesn't particularly want to leave either - but eventually his less pleasurable urges win out and he rolls gently from the bed and slips into the loo.

All in all, it takes less than three minutes to finish his business and pad back into Ginny's room, but he's still too late to slip back between the messy sheets before she wakes.

Blinking blearily at the light from the bedside lamp she's switched on, Harry nearly stubs his toe on the doorframe and misses Ginny's furrowed brow in the process.

She twists with the sheet pressed to her chest and fluffs her pillows against the headboard. Harry lingers at his - _the_ \- side of the bed and frowns, taking in her tense shoulders and pinched lips. "I thought - I woke up alone."

"Gin."

"No - I woke up alone so many times Harry, times when I thought. When I dreamt - "

Cautiously, Harry perches on the edge of the bed and reaches for her hand, letting his grasping fingers fall to the empty bed at the last moment. He studiously inspects the duvet for a moment. "I didn't want to leave you. But you were - "

"I was?"

"I couldn't watch you marry Dean - but I was going to," he mutters in a rush, "You were happy and I waited too long. But then this assignment came up and I thought getting away would be best."

"Best," Ginny says, face a mask, "Best to _tell me you love me_ and then disappear not even twenty-four hours later?"

Bracing his forehead in his palm, Harry sighs, "Well it certainly wasn't the _easiest_ choice."

Ginny hums, noncommittal.

"I know tonight was - it was fast," Harry begins, "But I want to make things right, I want - if you - I still feel the same way."

Her face is turned toward the window, moonlight like a halo around her fiery hair and Harry tries to preserve the image in his memory, in case it's all he'll have.

"I lied."

Harry gulps. "About?"

"Dean and I were over before you even left - I ended things the morning after you turned up at my flat in a rare pique of emotional openness," Ginny answers, and he can see her lips tick up at the corner, profile framed by the foggy windowpane.

"I'm sorry."

She turns abruptly, that fire in her eyes that could either mean heaven or hell. "Are you?"

"Mostly - no," Harry breathes, "But I put you through that and didn't even stick around to make good on anything."

"The break-up wasn't your fault - it had to happen sometime," Ginny murmurs, relaxing back into the pillows she'd fluffed. "You were what made me realize that Dean wasn't what I wanted - that there was a part of me that knew we weren't right, and I was waiting for it."

Harry picks at the bedspread and Ginny continues, "If a love confession from my brother's best mate had me questioning everything - how could I keep Dean?"

"I'm glad one of us is emotionally mature," Harry says, dry, and Ginny links her fingers with his.

"Slow. Slow sounds good," she answers, quiet.

His thumb brushes over the back of her hand as he rests his forehead in the crook of her shoulder. "We're not off to the best start with that plan."

Ginny nuzzles his hairline and whispers, "Slow starts in the morning, yeah?"


	30. HG - Harry and ginny post bachelor(ette)

A/N: this is a BALL OF FLUFF. Also I think it's clear, but I would like to reinforce the fact that Ginny is not drunk, just had a few drinks, and she's really tired. And I can personally attest to the fact that if you're really tired, have a drink, fall asleep, and wake up, you could be this confused and slur your speech that much. hehe. This author's note is getting longer than the drabbe xD

* * *

Harry wakes to a dull thud followed by shushing and giggles, _Ginny_ 's giggles. Grasping around for his abandoned glasses, Harry's fingers eventually close around the metal frames where they've fallen to the floor.

He swipes at the bit of drool on his cheek with a frown and shuffles into the entryway where Ginny's currently doing battle with her left boot. "Alright, Gin?"

In a rather dog-like manner, Ginny perks up, eyes wide as they dart toward the sound of his voice. She grins wide, "Ha _rr_ y!"

Muffling his chuckles as a cough, Harry squats in front of her and tugs at her still tight laces and pulls her boot off, years of practice with Teddy meaning he ducks appropriately. Though Ginny does nearly up end herself and falls back into the front door. "Where - where's Kreacher?"

"With Teddy and Andromeda," Harry says, suppressing a grin at Ginny's flummoxed expression and helping her rise to her feet. "Ted's got the flu, remember?"

"Poor bugger," Ginny mutters, complying when he wraps his arm around her middle and guiding her to the staircase, "Sorry. M'brain's filled with quidditch and wedding at the moment."

"Aye," Harry agrees, slowing when Ginny becomes fascinated with the vaulted ceilings.

"Herm- Herm- " Ginny pauses her struggles and Harry supplies, "Hermione?"

She nods, "Yeah - she had to go t'her _parents_ ," they pause again while Ginny takes a steadying breath, then becomes _infatuated_ with Harry's earlobe. "N'Luna's Rolf showed up."

Harry sucks in a breath when she nips at that particular spot behind his ear and squeezes her ribs, "Well I'm glad you got home alright."

"I always do," Ginny drawls, tugging him toward her bedroom, "'Specially when I need your _services_."

"How tipsy are you at the mo'?" Harry asks as Ginny half dances in the hall and throws her bedroom door open.

"On'ly a couple - _things_. But I didn't eat much 'n' _practice_ this morning," Ginny reasons as she tugs her jumper off and plops on the bed, hair a riot around her luminous face.

"So the slurring?" Harry asks, trying to keep his mind busy as he pulls her dark tights down to expose miles of her freckled legs.

"Fell asleep in the cab," Ginny says simply, flopping back so the mattress springs creak beneath her as she wriggles free of her denim skirt.

Hands grabby in a childish way, Ginny summons Harry to the bed and he complies, lying on his side and flinching away slightly when her seeking hands almost poke his eye.

He laughs quietly and grasps her fingers, pressing a kiss to the tips, "Did you three have a good time then?"

"Lovely," Ginny answers primly, "Nice to go to pubs with a ring on - scares off most skeevy blokes."

Grunting, Harry decides he'd rather stay cuddled up with his beautiful fiance than go out hunting the few skeevies that _weren't_ scared off and smiles softly. "I'm glad, Gin."

She hums softly, "Missed you."

"You're home now, eh?" Harry murmurs against her hairline.

Nuzzling against his chest, Ginny knits her fingers through his hair and sighs, "Home."


	31. HG - flirty, banterish, Quidditch

A/N: little bit of pre dating cuteness I hope you like!

* * *

Harry's lying in the middle of the pitch, tossing a quaffle overhead with repetitive thuds when two hands dart out and pull it away mid air. "Skipping dinner, Potter?"

"Would _you_ want to eat if you were sat between Ron and Hermione mid-feud?" Harry drawls, blinking up at one Ginny Weasley where she stands over him, quaffle propped on her hip.

"Fair point," Ginny says with a smirk before squatting down next to him and revealing a small pack from behind her back. "Figured as much so I snuck into the kitchens and swiped some sandwiches."

"Don't have to swipe if you ask for Dobby," Harry grins, pushing up onto his palms and dragging one knee close to his chest.

He reaches to unwrap the psuedo picnic, only to have his hand slapped away as Ginny narrows her eyes. "No sandwiches until you promise you don't have designs on my spot as chaser." She glances toward the quaffle and eyes him, " _Not_ that you're any match for me."

"I'm a jack of all trades, excuse _you_ ," Harry scoffs, dodging her defensive maneuvers and grabbing a half sandwich.

Ginny taps her chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness, "Who got seventeen goals at try outs?"

Harry tilts his head in acknowledgement and takes a second bite, brushing the crumbs away from his mouth somewhat self-consciously and flushing beetroot when Ginny gets a few strays from his lip. Still, he manages to grunt out, "Some plucky red headed menace, I believe," he sends Ginny a grin, "Suppose I shouldn't mess with her."

"Don't you forget it, Harry James. _ **"**_


	32. HG - Ginny stealing all Harry's clothes

A/N: This was a vague prompt for Ginny wearing Harry's clothes...fluff but also sultry?

* * *

She doesn't really hear him until he leans against the door frame, the low creak breaking through her focused haze more proficiently than his barely there _pop_ of apparition.

Ginny turns, knife still in hand, and grins softly. "Auror Potter."

" _Madame_."

Sliding the knife onto the counter, Ginny saunters closer and grips the lapels of his long coat. "You only call me _madame_ on very specific occasions."

Harry slants his mouth over hers, palm cupping her head as he murmurs against her lips, "It's about to be one," his lips skate over her jawline, "Has been since you put _this_ on."

Snickering, Ginny glances down at her - _his_ \- t-shirt where it's stretched across her middle and pinches his shoulder. "You're such a _boy_."

"It's not territorial shite," Harry defends, letting his hands slip lower, rucking the top up at the hem. "It just accentuates," he kisses behind her ear, lingering as he murmurs, "Your _assets_."

"Like my," Ginny breaks off on a moan, "Whale-like midriff?"

He works his way down the column of her neck, her collar bone, nuzzling at her diaphragm so her breath catches, until he's knelt in front of her, stroking her middle and gazing up at her with those emerald eyes that send her pulse skittering. "I love you _and_ your swollen belly and our - "

A loud, ear-piercing wail breaks from the other room and Harry drops his forehead against her abdomen and laughs quietly. "Bloody hell, he's worse than Ron."


	33. HG - Ginny objectifying Harry

A/N: I'm SORRY for spamming but I have a dayyyyyyy

* * *

When Harry bought a car, Ginny wasn't sure if it was a delayed teen need for independence or a wish to go back to his muggle roots. But he'd taken her on a few joyrides and they had tentative plans for a week long road-trip to nowhere, so she'd accepted the idea without complaint.

Until Harry declared the car was a _mess_ and took it out behind the Burrow for a good old fashioned wash, sans wand. And sans _shirt_. Which is when Ginny became the car's staunchest defender.

He washes it every other Saturday, suds and water flying about, soaking his t-shirt without fail (which is Ginny's first favorite part). Eventually, the sun dries his shirt in patches, the soap making it a bit crispy, and Harry does away with his top all together (which is Ginny's second favorite part).

Hermione sends her knowing glances, Ron mock retches, and George buys her a lawn chair.

She doesn't realize anyone else (namely Harry) has taken notice until the fourth Saturday and Harry loses his shirt almost immediately. Which doesn't totally make things clear.

But when he sends her that lopsided smirk and produces a tube of sunblock and holds it out to Ginny where she's lounged in the shade (with a pair of sunglasses and a book she never reads) she's almost positive.

"Help a bloke out?"

Ginny slides her glasses down the bridge of her nose and winks, "Step right up."


	34. HG - Hairbrushing

A/N: prompt was adorable and blvnk-art on tumblr has me totally hooked on long haired!Auror!Harry. Go check it out if you haven't seen it.

* * *

When Harry got called away mere hours before their long overdue weekend family holiday, he was more than a bit angry. When he arrives at the Ministry to discover the 'emergency' mainly involved a bunch of trainees bungling up a fairly routine run, he's trying to recall exactly _why_ using said trainees for target practice is not acceptable.

Still, even with the relatively low level problem, it's widespread and has enough potential to create a hubbub with the press that Harry isn't locking the door to his office until nearly midnight. His only comfort is the short missive he'd found waiting on his desk in round, looping script. _Meet us at the cottage - G_

He lands just outside the boundary line of the small place they'd rented, sand soft beneath his boots and tide rising steadily at his back. Squinting against the darkness, he can see most of the cottage is unlit, and he would think his family all already asleep save the small front room which glows with a warmth likely the result of the fireplace that has a steady plume of smoke rising from the chimney. _Gin_.

Mindful of the children he hopes are well off to dream land, Harry opens and closes the door slowly, the final click shutting out the stress on his shoulders along with the crashing waves.

Before he lifts his forehead from the rough hewn wood of the door, slim arms wrap around his middle, and Harry could melt right there. His voice is low, rough with overuse, when he murmurs, "Mrs. Potter."

" _Harry_ ," Ginny answers back, tone matching his as her fingers work the buckles of his cloak free.

He winces as the heavy leather slips past his fingertips and Ginny presumably hangs it on the nearby coat-rack. Tugging his own boots off, Harry places them beneath his cloak and rises, cupping Ginny's jaw. "'m sorry I missed today."

Ginny grips his hand and presses a kiss to the base of his thumb. "Couldn't be helped."

Harry sighs, "The kids?"

She laughs softly and tugs him toward the cozy sitting room, settling into the corner and puling him to sit between her legs. "Disappointed. But they perked up when I whipped out the Quidditch gear."

"Suckers," Harry snort turning into a moan when Ginny's fingers begin pressing into his tensed neck.

He has to bite down on his lip to keep the groan in when she drags his hair free of the tie and Harry once again marvels at the reality that _hair_ can hurt.

After she works the largest tangles free with her fingers, Ginny grabs her wand from the end table and flicks it silently, free hand leaving his shoulder and waiting expectantly.

As she loops one foot around his hip, a brush falls into her hand with a thud, Slowly, she begins working the bristles through his knotted locks, and Harry wonders when exactly he got so lucky. Harry moans, and if he wasn't in an absolutely blissful state, he might be embarrassed. "You're a goddess."

Ginny presses a kiss to his temple. "I know."


	35. HG - Jealous Ginny

A/N: THIS IS A LITTLE SERIOUS OR SOMETHING? Idk I tried to write this in a good way and I hope you like and that it makes sense? It's a little out of my comfort zone. (but cute and cuddly and no one is actually doing anything bad)

* * *

Ginny's pretty confident in herself, as a person, and equally as secure in her relationship with her husband of a decade (give or take), but even the most untouchable woman would be concerned when walking in on the tale end of a conversation that involves words like "the most beautiful thing I've ever seen" and "Don't tell Ginny."

Which - she's not _really_ concerned, but Harry's been busy a lot and she's a tad insecure since making the switch from playing to writing. Plus post-pregnancy hormones are driving her up the wall.

So when Harry's out for the third night in a row, the only explanation a short, vague missive in his familiar scrawl, Ginny keeps her grin firmly in place as she putters about getting the boys washed, fed, re-washed, and then finally to bed.

She's in a fitful sleep, dreaming that she's ballooned up like that time Harry accidentally turned his aunt into a blimp, when a thud sounds from the doorway, followed by a few choice swears. Grunting, she tugs the covers closer over her shoulder and mutters against her pillow, "No lights."

Harry huffs a laugh from the doorway and continues padding through the room on soft feet, leaving his discarded (and rank smelling) clothes heaped in the corner. After disappearing into the en-suite for a handful of minutes, Harry sneaks back in, hair damp and breath fresh, and slips under the covers.

His chilly fingers reach for her middle and Ginny flinches away (whether it's the result of said chill or her overly suspicious mindset at the moment has yet to be determined). Either way, it's not gone unnoticed and Harry is almost instantly propped up in the bed. "Gin," he murmurs, leaning close, his hand braced on her shoulder.

She does her best harrumph and flicks his hand free, only to have it slip through her close cropped hair. " _Gin_."

With a low growl, Ginny flops onto her back and flicks the light on, brown eyes angrily locked on his confused face. "What?"

His eyes narrow, but a smirk tickles the corner of his lips, which is adorable and also ticks her off, bloody bastard. "I'm waiting."

"You're angry - is it because of the extra hours?" Harry asks, "I already put in for a four day weekend, you can have some time to yourself and I'll take the kids."

Ginny sits up so abruptly that she knocks her head into Harry's, wincing at the impact but not losing her righteous anger, which had been boiling up since about two that afternoon. "Just can't stand to be in the same _house_ as me for more than a few hours to _sleep_ , is that it?"

Mouth falling open, Harry sits back, still rubbing at the growing goose egg on his forehead. "You - _Ginny_."

"Don't _Ginny_ me," Ginny growls lowly, still mindful of the sleeping Potters down the hall, "What the bloody hell is going on?"

He's apparently still lost, and a less overtired, more hormonally regular Ginny might cut him slack, but James is _walking_ and Albus is an eternally hungry nightmare so she throws the covers back and twists to face him. "Who's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

"If we're talking things I'm attracted to - _you_ \- but I mean the boys were beautiful, are beautiful when they're not sicking up all over me."

And he's so earnest, so beautifully her _boy_ , that Ginny's indignance fades and she's just confused. "So on the floo?"

There's a pause, and Ginny sees the tiredness around Harry's eyes that has her feeling a bit sorry for putting him through the third degree at one in the morning, but in for a penny, in for a pound, or so they say. "Sunday afternoon."

He looks disappointed, slumping in defeat, "Shite. Is it literally impossible to surprise you with a birthday gift?"

"Birthday?"

"Yes, it's not for another few weeks but the new Comet - "

"Is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen," Ginny finishes, face already flushing with embarrassment. "Harry I'm - wait. The late nights?"

"Thought saving the money would be more meaningful than hitting up the ol' Potter vault, yeah?" Harry murmurs, thumb brushing her cheek.

"I'm a cow," Ginny grumbles, "In all senses of the word."

Leaning forward, Harry kisses her, all heat and comfort so her head spins and she almost can't recall why exactly he's muttering 'you're not a cow' against her jawline. But once she catches back up, Ginny finds herself on the verge of melodramatic, weepy tears that have her pushing him away and moaning, "You were working yourself to the bone while I'm assuming you're a cheating arse - " he continues his ministrations and she shoves a bit harder, " _Harry_."

With a sigh, Harry guides her until they're lying nose to nose, blankets blush around their shoulders, and cards his fingers through her hair. "Ideally, you wouldn't have noticed my strange behavior, but I can admit it was indeed suspicious."

"But I _know_ you," Ginny whispers, brushing her fingertips along the bridge of his nose.

"Which is why you angrily confronted me instead of packing up the kids and heading to who knows where," Harry sighs, chuckling a bit when he adds, "Also, you forewent calling your brothers, which my arse appreciates."

Ginny tucks her head under his chin and sniffs while Harry's hand runs soothing circles over her back. "I'll admit, you're a bit out of sorts - but I'm not home with the boys constantly and I've been going a bit batty myself," Harry murmurs, "Got more rest at the Ministry some nights - that chair you bought me is quite comfortable."

"Now I'm angry again," Ginny says with a watery laugh.

"Maybe I should just give you a nap for your birthday."

"Wouldn't say no," Ginny answers, quiet and almost asleep.

Just as she's drifting off, Harry nuzzles her hairline. "Don't think I missed the whole 'cow' bit. I will happily demonstrate how much I don't think you're a cow in any sense of the word," he pauses to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, "But I assume you'd prefer sleep at the mo'."

Ginny's hand slips just past the waistband of his pants and snuggles closer, "Rain-check?"


	36. HG & T - Embarrasing

A/N: I did like half the actual prompt, also I don't endorse physical violence but this is a drabble, it's fluffy, and sometimes people really make you wish you could punch them. 3 thank you for all the comments and kind words (especially after last chapter, which I was kinda nervous about)

* * *

When the Potter kids trooped off to Romania for some quality time with their uncle and a menagerie of dragons (Lily was most excited about the latter) Teddy had figured he was home free to have some friends over and look entirely _cool_ while doing it.

Which was a mistake. Because Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Head Auror, badass dueler, et al, was a complete dork. Like, fall asleep reading an instruction manual, wear his daughter's dress up paraphernalia, doesn't know which slang is in style anymore, _dad_. And Ginny, well, she's gorgeous (in a 'You're more like a mother figure' type way), famous, and can still wipe the floor with pretty much anyone on the pitch - but she's also got the Weasley mothering gene that rears it's head exactly when Teddy's trying to be cool in front of girls (whose names start with 'V' and end with 'ictoire').

And it's just a bunch of those little things the first few days - Harry fighting with a piece of pre-fab furniture they bought for Lily's room and swearing colorfully, Ginny warbling along with the Weird Sister's on the wireless. But when they come in from exploring the forest just outside the bounds of the Potter property and Harry's spooning sauce into Ginny's mouth while they pseudo dance in the kitchen, Teddy's jaw actually drops. " _Guys_."

Harry simply pauses, twisting to face his godson while Ginny looks disappointed and nearly follows the spoon like a dog with a treat. He nods, "Ted, boys."

Teddy narrows his eyes at their innocent expressions and sulks off to his room, friends in tow, maybe slamming the door _slightly_.

It's not even ten minutes later when Teddy emerges, cradling sore knuckles and scowling up a storm, and clears his throat at the kitchen doorway.

Ginny's got her reading glasses on, presumably looking over some drafts of her latest article, with her feet kicked up on one of the empty chairs, while Harry switches off the stove and turns his best 'dad' glare on Teddy. "We'll be discussing the attitude - what's with your hand?"

Face scrunching, Teddy sniffs and murmurs, "Euan wants to go home and he probably needs an ice pack."

Harry's gaze is heavy and Teddy tries his best to avoid eye contact, which isn't hard since he can't seem to keep from glancing at Ginny. But his godfather must sense something, or understand him well enough after more than a decade, so he grabs the suggested ice pack (the Potter family has acquired a collection by necessity) and disappears into Teddy's room, murmuring, "I'll take him home."

Once Harry's out of ear shot, gone in the green flames with a fuming Euan, Ginny kicks a chair out and sets her quill aside. "Have a seat, Teddy Bear."

He flushes at the nickname but does as he's told, though he can't fully abandon the sullen pre pubescent boy demeanor fully, so he plops a bit. Ginny taps her fingers against the side of her 'Best Mum' mug they'd all made together when their hands were all small enough to fit prints around the outside and smiles softly. "What's up?"

Teddy can't _look_ at her and say it so he folds his arms across the tabletop and hides his face. It's muffled a bit when he speaks, but he's loud enough that Ginny'll hear. "He said stuff about your _arse_ and about your," he sniffs, "Your _ti-"_

He can feel himself getting all riled up again, and apparently Ginny can tell, because one of her cool, calloused hands lands on his forearm. "It's alright, love."

But that righteous anger's already boiled to the brim again and his jaw is set when he looks up, "I wasn't going to let him talk 'bout you that way," Ginny's hand cards through his sweat-dampened locks (they were blue this morning but he's so angry it could be anything by now) and Teddy sniffles again, "So I punched him when he wouldn't apologize."

"I'm glad you told me," Ginny says softly, "And that you're such a wonderful boy."

Teddy studies the table.

"But tempting as it is - "

"I shouldn't punch people," Teddy finishes with a big sigh.

Before they can discuss the issue further, Harry comes slinking back in, hand tucked carefully into his pocket and shoulders tensed. Teddy's a bit confused but Ginny's like a niffler on a scent and she's crossed her arms over her chest, the full force of her gaze resting on Harry as he stirs with the wrong hand.

"Show me your hand, Harry James."

He pauses mid-stir. "No."

" _Harry_."

"Bloody arse-hole - sorry Ted - said it was _ok_ to make dirty comments on your chest and arse - sorry Ted - because you 'show them off enough'."

Ginny's mouth falls open, and if Teddy knows his godparents, he'd say Harry's fully on board the knuckle sandwich train and Ginny's a faux reluctant stow away. But before anything can be confirmed, Harry switches off the stove once again, settles the lid over the sauce, and retrieves a couple pints of Fortescue's from the ice box. "Ted, we're having ice cream for dinner."

And just when he thinks Ginny's going to object, she flicks her wand and three spoons come flying from their drawer. "Just, for the record, punching is not the best option."

Both boys duck their heads a bit, and Teddy thinks he spies Ginny's mouth twitch into an affectionate grin as Harry mumbles, " _Off_ the record, it's usually the most satisfying."


	37. HG - Hottest Quidditch Player of the Yr

A/N: cute, fluffy, flirty - basically my one speed

* * *

Harry wakes and slowly rolls from the bed, frowning when the opposite side is empty. But the bed is still a bit warm and the kettle's whistling so she can't be far.

He's about halfway down the hall when he notices a bit of smoke rolling from beneath the coat closet door. Trying to recall whether Teddy'd slept over and if he had, whether he'd had any Wheezes with him, Harry pauses with his hand on the knob - only to be half tackled against the wall by a blur of fire and freckles. "Don't."

Her breath sends a shiver up his spine, but Harry's also got his face pressed against the wall rather spectacularly, so it's not hard to refocus. "I'll leave it, if you promise we're not about to be blown up."

Ginny relents, straightening his smudged glasses when he turns and gestures toward the kitchen with a tilt of her head. "It'll be easier to show."

Following close behind, Harry rubs the sleep from his eyes and the prints from his spectacles, accepting the glossy magazine from an unreadable Ginny and wondering which dirt rag thinks he's cheating on Ginny this month.

Only to be confronted with reasons number forty-eight and sixty-three why he would be an idiot to do so. He settles into one of the mismatched bar-stools and grins at Ginny. "It came!"

She nods, preparing two cups of tea wordlessly.

"And we're not happy?" Harry questions, taking in Ginny in all her glory - kit foregone in favor of her preferred muggle work out gear and juggling two quaffles as she winks at the camera. As she does so, Harry's fairly certain picture Ginny tosses her messy, wet locks and purses her lips flirtatiously at him.

"We are still chuffed at being named any Quidditch player of the year - and I don't mind being called hot once in a while," Ginny says with a smirk, propping her elbows on the counter-top and reinforcing Harry's recollections of exactly what the two quaffles camouflage.

Thumbing through to the correct page, Harry skims the first few paragraphs, "And it seems all definitions of 'hot' are relevant."

"Bloody right it does - I am the full package."

"I would like to get credit for not making a comment about any other packages," Harry says, voice low and flirtatious despite the fairly innocuous words.

Ginny sighs. "I wish you would."

Harry grasps her hand, running gentle fingers over the back of her hand, around to her palm so softly that Ginny shivers. "So the smoke - I'm guessing howlers?"

"Aye."

"From?"

"Various Weasleys - mostly Aunt Muriel," Ginny answers with an eye roll.

Rounding the cabinets, Ginny pushes Harry's knee until he's turned enough that her hips are bracketed by his thighs and her arms rise to lock around his neck. Harry kisses down her jawline. "You're not even nude."

Ginny laughs lightly, "I know - dad wants to ask me about the muggle fabric."

Harry pulls away and runs one finger along the edge of her sports bra, then lets his hands tickle down her bare, sweat damp side and pulls her closer. "This is new. And as your husband, I'd like to do a full inspection before you wear it again."

"For safety," Ginny agrees.

"I am an auror, after all."


	38. HG - Amortentia

A/N: THEY MADE ME WRITE A SAD THING WHY. If you want a follow up to this, I've already written (old one called **Familiar** ) **  
**

* * *

Ginny's heart drops with a sense of dread when Slughorn announces he's adjusted the course schedule and bumped up some of the more 'fun' work toward the beginning. He means well, but Ginny can see the cracks in his facade, the weariness in his eyes and even moreso the guilt she can hear shadowing every forced chuckle.

But her sympathy doesn't change the fact that she wants to slap his jolly face when he proclaims _Amortentia_ is their next big project. Because, good intentions aside, it's a bit hard to get excited about a love potion when the world is falling apart around their ears - and it's particularly hard when she's already got a very good idea exactly what wonderful, terrible, lovely scent is going to waft into the air and twirl her insides until she's a mess.

She has the whole weekend to fume and nothing but Inquisitorial Squads, Death Eaters gone teachers and homework to distract her. Which may sound flippant, to dismiss abusive professors and student patrols bent on embarrassment and worse along with the week's assignments, but coping has done strange things to her. And that's exactly what she can't do anymore - cope. Because she can't even leave the castle without inviting teasing and beyond, let alone make her way to the pitch for a fly.

So, for more reasons than one, Ginny's scuffed flats are dragging Monday morning. Neville sticks close as he can - they all do, moving about in groups in the hopes that they'll seem less easy to pick off - leaving Ginny in the musty, moldy smelling dungeons with a grim smile. Ginny nods and slips into the classroom, because that's all they have, at least during class hours, shallow smiles and gestures to remind them they're not alone.

It's already warm and muggy in the classroom when Ginny claims her seat somewhere in the middle, close enough that she'll be in Slughorn's full view and far enough away that she won't have to interact with anyone who sees loving a half-blood or having a muggleborn best friend as an insult to her _pure_ heritage.

Once class is called to order, Ginny settles in and waits for what she knows is coming. The parade of eager, hormone fueled students each sniffing at the bubbling vat in the hopes that they'll smell their boyfriend, girlfriend, or that crush that seems just out of reach.

Ginny's dreading just that.

By the time her turn comes, she's planning to fake it. Take a huge fake breath that doesn't _actually_ happen and making up smelling bubblegum and soap or whatever else will make Slughorn's jolly cheeks flush with happiness.

But once it's looming in front of her, tendrils drawing her in, Ginny takes the barest of sniffs and letting her eyes drift shut.

And for just a moment, she's back at the Burrow, surrounded by her family as her mother pulls yet _another_ tray of gingerbread from the oven. She's slipping down the stairs and avoiding the creaky bits with expert accuracy until she's disappeared out the back door and into the yard, grass slick with dew and fingers aching for a broom. And then she's tucked in warm, wiry arms beneath a broad beech tree, fresh cotton and summertime and - she's shoved from behind and there are tears welling in her eyes as she makes her way back to her desk. _Lighter_.


	39. HG - Jealous Ginny 2

A/N: the last one was SAD so now I gotta give you a cute one

in my haste, i accidentally did jealous ginny again, when the prompt was for jealous harry im just...anyway, it's been posted and whatnot so here it is anyway

* * *

"So the new PR woman is nice, yeah?" Ginny says once they've arrived at the unofficial parking space for Harry's motorbike.

Harry looks confused for a moment, pulling the pack at the back of the bike open and stuffing his Harpy pennants inside. He extends one hand for her bag and shrugs. "Sure - I mean. She stepped in when that arsehole asked _me_ for proof of identity at the family box," Harry snorts, "I mean - not to be that guy but I'm literally the most famous wizard alive."

"Far cry from the little fourth year hiding from reporters," Ginny teases, stuffing her gear into the magically extended saddle bag.

"I'm a slightly angrier and much saltier version of myself - it's a good thing," Harry declares, swinging one leg over and looking at Ginny expectantly as the sky warms with the sunset around them.

"Yeah," Ginny agrees, "You've got _lots_ of good things."

As the magically enhanced engine revvs to life, Harry frowns, "That tone doesn't sound particularly - "

"She touched your bloody _arm_ and I got so pissed about it I broke that bloody Tutshill Beater's nose with my elbow like an animal."

"Gin - you've broken that same Beater's nose at least twice," Harry answers back and she wants to break _his_ nose for the laughter ticking his lips upward.

"Just - "

"If she touched me, I didn't even notice because I was too busy watching _you_ ," Harry says softly, bringing both legs to one side of the bike and letting his thumb brush her jawline while he cups her head gently.

Huffing impatiently, Ginny folds her arms, avoiding melting into his embrace, "I just feel like a prize idiot - I don't _want_ to act like a possessive bint who flies off the handle when a woman _looks_ at you but - "

"You just can't help yourself around all this _man_?" Harry finishes, his bubbling chuckles ruining the low drawl he'd started off with.

Ginny shoves his chest, "I'll go call Mina - I've changed my mind."

Harry grapples at her elbows and pulls her close, "No - come back here, don't leave," and when Ginny softens, letting him tuck her into his chest, he murmurs, "You've got to take me home and piss on me."

"Oh for fu-"

Leaning close, Harry brushes his nose against hers and whispers in that low, deadly voice so his breath brushes her lips, " _Enough_."

And then his kiss has her mind whirring, fast and hot and all too short when he pulls away a handful of moments later. "Let's go - you've got lots of victory steam to work off, yeah?"


	40. HG - Fluffy and Flirty

A/N: flirty, pointless fluff and teasing as ordered.

* * *

"You know when you invited me to see a film and then wanted to sit in the back, I assumed we'd at least _hold hands_ ," Ginny grumbles, knocking her shoulder against Harry's as they begin wandering from the cinema and into the dusky evening air.

Harry snorts, dropping a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "Like you'd have let me distract you from the screen."

Linking her arm through his, Ginny pulls him along faster, eyeing a nearby ice cream shop longingly. "I'd have made you work for it - not up to the challenge, Potter?"

After swiping the butter from his hand on his trousers, Harry smirks down at Ginny and maneuvers them toward an alcove set just off the beaten path. " _More than_ , Weasley."

A flush - far from embarrassed - rises up Ginny's neck and her heart thuds against her chest, though she fights to keep her tone light as she brushes past Harry and continues toward her chosen dessert. "Words, words."

And she's not ashamed to admit her delight when Harry follows after her, fully the lovesick puppy she'd hoped for as she tossed her hair over one shoulder and winked.

But by the time they've reached the counter, he seems somewhat recovered, just a few moments behind her arrival.

A shiver runs up her spine when his hand finds her hip, thumb caressing just beneath the hem of her shirt, but he doesn't go farther. eyes firmly on the menu options. "I'd like a peppermint cone? Two scoops."

His gaze shifts towards hers, inviting in the most disappointing way - of course he'd find a way to make _ice cream_ disappointing. "One scoop of chocolate and another of raspberry in a cone please," Ginny asks, more prim than she's ever been in her life. Until the attendant disappears down the freezer case to prepare their order and Ginny slants her eyes toward Harry and murmurs, "Are you sure you're up to all that licking?"

Harry chokes on his tongue.

"Two scoops - it's so hot outside," Ginny tilts into his chest and just barely brushing her lips over his jawline, "It'll be running over your fingers."

His breath catches and she pulls away, all mischief and teasing as she grabs her ice cream, "Oh look! All ready."

Scowling, Harry takes his own and lets his gaze linger on hers as he takes a taste, slow and meaningful. "All ready."

Ginny's eyes go almost imperceptibly wider but she squares her shoulders and tilts her head toward the exit. "Ready to brave the heat?"

Harry takes another lick and offers her a taste, "Think you can handle it?"

She runs her tongue over the peaked tip and bats her eyes, "Can _you_?"


	41. HG - tired snuggles

A/N: this is inspired by a beautiful work by blvnk-art because how can you not be inspired by her amazing art? I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

It's late, _very_ late when Ginny sneaks into the house, surely more nimble than the teammates she'd just wrangled to their respective homes. They'd had a long, hard won victory that Harry and little James had screeched about from the stands, matching green and gold warpaint across their cheeks.

But James got cranky from his missed nap and the girls wanted to celebrate together, so Harry shooed her off with a kiss and disappeared with James in tow.

She'd showered off long ago, but the stale smell of celebrations she didn't really partake in beyond than a couple chilled glasses she nursed through the night has her slipping into the loo and rinsing the grime from her body.

The suds rinsed from her curves, Ginny shuts the spray quietly and towels off before completing the rest of her evening rituals. And more from utter exhaustion than any other _needs_ , Ginny forgoes rooting around for pajamas and pads through the darkness toward her beautiful, gloriously fluffed bed.

And despite her sleepiness, or perhaps because of it, Ginny can't suppress the soft smile that rises on her lips when she spots the very top of Harry's sleep rumpled head peeking over the duvet. Not surprised in the least that her husband's passed out, dead to the world, after working a double and only grabbing a few hours' sleep before bundling a not quite toddler off to Wales.

So she resists the urge to scratch her fingers through his hair and slips into her side of the bed, already feeling the tug of sleep before her head hits the pillow.

Until a warm arm slides over her middle sluggishly and she feels the bristle on Harry's legs tickle her smooth ones. His hum is warm against her damp hair. "Gin."

Ginny sighs, and gives in to the foregone temptation from earlier, running her fingers over the corded muscles of his neck and into his messy tendrils. "Missed you."

He nuzzles her ear. "And my eyes green as a fresh pickled toad?"

"Why - oh bloody hell, I forgot," Ginny tenses, trying to decide how exactly she'd been dull enough to _not_ realize the gag inducing hearts and lace and other overdone decorations were for Valentine's Day.

"Don't care," Harry murmurs, pressing a short, affectionate kiss against her shoulder, "You're here, you're not wearing a stitch of clothing, our beautiful son's down the hall - "

Twisting in his arms, Ginny tucks her head under his chin. "You've gotten flowery in your old age."

"Sue me," Harry grumbles, "Take it while it's coming - awake Harry's not anywhere near as eloquent."

"Mostly barking and weighted silence," Ginny agrees, drifting off again.

"You love it."

"I do."


	42. JL - family fluff

A/N: LIVE AND HAPPY AND FLUFFY

* * *

"Where's Harry?" Lily asks for the third time while James plies her with kisses, the last in a trilogy of distractions that began with freshly baked blueberry muffins (her favorite) and dipped down on the interest scale with a cup of lukewarm tea.

"Harry?" James practically squeaks, eyes quite deer-like as he tightens his grip on her waist.

"Yes, Harry," Lily drawls, "Our son - the one with the messy hair and glasses?"

James wriggles his brows, though his jaw is tight. " _I've_ got messy hair and glasses."

"Bloody buggering - "

Before Lily can finish her surely mesmerizing trail of expletive laden threats, the missing child in question calls out from the sun room. "In here, mum!"

She doesn't miss the panic in James' eyes (how he managed to get away with _anything_ illegal over the course of their schooling she'll never know) as she brushes past his shoulder and follows the sound of Harry's voice.

He's standing somewhat awkwardly in the center of the room, not much better than his father in terms of playing it cool (but he gets away with it because of those wide eyes and that crooked smile and that little way he ruffles - ok maybe she knows _exactly_ how James got away with shite). "Mum."

" _Harry_."

"Fine day we're having," Harry says lightly, practically whistling with his faux innocence.

"You two need lying lessons from Sirius," a snort sounds from the closet and Lily's brows shoot up into her hairline while James glares at the closet where they store their board games. "Perhaps not."

" _Remus_ is the best," Harry lisps through his missing teeth, grinning proudly.

There's an angry harrumph this time and Lily's almost positive she can hear Remus' suppressed laughter coming from beneath the sofa.

The sofa that is now on an entirely different wall than the one it'd been pressed against when she left for the ministry that morning. "What's going on?"

Harry and James have a silent war between them, and Lily can't help the laughter that bubbles at their almost identical expressions. But it's Sirius that breaks the silence, muffled though he is from behind the door. "Will one of you tell Lily how 'Prongs' gave Harry a ride _in_ the house and somehow managed to catapult said child into the wall?"

The two Potter boys freeze and twist toward Lily slowly, as if somehow the speed of their movements could influence her anger levels. "So."

"The sunroom's not _really_ in the house, is it?" Harry tries, elbowing James to jar him to action.

But James has an extra ten or so years with Lily Potter nee Evans, and he knows when to cut his losses so he lays a hand on Harry's shoulder and squares his shoulders. "Will never happen again and we'll start patching the wall right away."

Remus finally rolls from his hiding space - beneath the settee like she'd guessed - and smirks, "I dunno, I thought the Harry-shaped hole it was a nice architectural feature."


	43. HG - Opposing Quidditch Teams

A/N: This is, not what I expected to do with the prompt. But I like it and I'll take any opportunity to write something where everyone's alive

* * *

He really _doesn't_ recognize her at first. First because he doesn't really memorize the exact faces of all opposing chasers, and second because he's in a lonely, hole in the wall, muggle pub trying to have a quiet drink and eat some greasy food.

So he's a bit more grumpy than he should be when a red headed woman even angry Harry will admit is gorgeous claims the seat across from him. "Mind a bit of company?"

"I do, a bit," Harry grumbles, finishing off his initial drink and pulling the replacement closer. Before this woman can steal it - because he's known her for less than a minute and he'd bet his life-savings she'd take a swig without blinking.

"Don't be a piss-arse," she chides, raising her hand and _immediately_ getting the staff's attention, because of course they'd all had their eyes glued to the temptress of a woman since she sauntered in. Harry on the other hand, had to wait _at_ the bar for ten minutes before anyone deigned to take his order - and he bloody comes here twice a week.

"I'll be whatever I want - a strange woman commandeered my table," Harry shoots back.

She tilts her head and accepts her lager from a passing waitress with a grateful smile. "I'll take strange - it's a family trait. But we're hardly strange _rs_."

"Don't know you from Adam," Harry volleys back simply, fighting to ignore the way his heart thrums like it hasn't in - _ever_.

"Well you'll know me soon enough," she answers just as calmly, twisting her glass so it makes wet rings on the sticky tabletop.

"What the - " he finally looks at her, _really_ looks at her. The freckled - everything - the bright red hair short and messy around her creamy face, deep, dark eyes boring holes into him. "Weasley."

"Got it in one," she answers, triumphant like getting him to guess her name was a game, "Ginny, in case you didn't know."

"Not Ginevra?" Harry asks spearing a carrot from his side salad.

" _God_ no," Ginny moans, "It's atrocious - someone named _Harry_ would never know."

"I've gotten equal measures of 'you've got your mother's eyes' and 'you're the mirror of your dad' since I was old enough to walk, I'll take a strange name," Harry says, laughing despite himself.

"I suppose there are negatives to having a famous father - and mother," Ginny allows, "Though the benefits are likely moreso than whatever positives have come from having a tragedy of a first name."

"Papa said it made him tough," Harry volunteers, somehow not shocked that he's discussed his family more with this virtual stranger than any woman he's taken on a date in the last three years.

"Ah, _Fleamont_ ," Ginny nods knowingly, and for the first time she flushes, "I probably seem like a stalker."

He waves away her nerves, "Nah, it's harder to find someone associated with me who _hasn't_ been on the cover of the Prophet too many times to count. Though I am curious as to how you found me _here_."

Ginny takes a swallow of her drink. "Sirius Black is a lightweight."

"No he's not," Harry frowns, recalling a particularly raucous seventeenth birthday in a forgotten Potter cottage in the highlands.

"No he's not," Ginny agrees, "But he is a frustrated matchmaker."

"Oh for fu-"

"I'm not here to _woo_ you," Ginny cuts in before Harry can finish his rant (and her convincing denial brings more disappointment than he'd like to admit), "We're the two youngest players to be up for the national team in - a _long_ time."

"So?"

" _So_ , We're inevitably going to be doing lots of press together," she finishes off her drink and waves the ever attentive staff away with a kind smile, "Particularly since the Harpies will be trouncing Puddlemere a week from Friday."

Harry scoffs, "Hardly."

She smirks and Harry's _really_ regretting the lack of wooing taking place.

"I'll see you on the pitch, Potter?" Ginny finally says, standing, "Unless you'd like to get together again - _professionally_."

And the clarification is like a punch to the gut. But a punch that somehow has him asking, "And what about _un_ professionally."

Ginny turns toward him abruptly and he's already thought of four scandalous headlines she could have them running before noon tomorrow. But her gaze isn't angry - it's _playful_?

She presses a small cream colored card onto the table and slides it toward him. "We'll see if your offer still stands _after_ I trounce you next week."


	44. J & H - Harry gets his first glasses

A/N: JAMES WAS AND WOULD HAVE BEEN A GREAT DAD FIGHT ME (no don't actually)

* * *

"He's been holed up in his room all afternoon," Lily says in greeting, fingers drumming on the counter next to a takeout menu. He can practically smell their usual Thursday night pizza.

"I knew we should've waited 'til I could come too."

Lily sighs and peeks into the living room where Evie and Alfie sit in front of the telly, still enraptured by the cartoonish images as they flicker past. "Didn't help that he couldn't come to the game with you today."

"Game was shite anyway," James grumbles, "I think Harry could've found the snitch faster."

"It's almost like his dad has been training him since before he could crawl," Lily says with a roll of her eyes, but she sobers, "I tried to talk to him but - "

He presses a kiss to her forehead and sends her a lopsided grin, "But I'm the specky git in this relationship."

The doorbell rings and James can already taste the pepperoni, but Lily shoos him toward Harry's room. "I'll handle this - you _go_."

Knocking twice, James pushes into Harry's room and finds him lying face down on the bed. No one ever said Potters neglected opportunities for drama. "What's up, mate?"

Harry sighs into the bedclothes and turns his face to the side. "You know very well _dad_. You and mum aren't as stealthy as you think."

"My detention to mischief ratio says differently," James says lightly, throwing his over-robes over Harry's cluttered little desk chair in the corner and kicking his shoes off. "Glasses aren't the end of the world, Harry."

"I look like a _bug_."

"It's a thing that happens to all Potter men, you know," James says, softer as he settles on the bed near Harry's hip.

"Turning into a bug?"

James snorts, " _No_ , smart ass. The eyes."

Sniffling a bit, Harry props himself up and swipes at his nose with the sleeve of his jumper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah - and I'll tell you another thing," James begins, wriggling his way to lie next to Harry on the bed, rearranging the pillows a bit beneath his head, "The Ballycastle seeker could've used a pair today."

Eyes lighting, Harry props himself on James' chest. " _Yeah_? Never liked Limpet."

James grabs the already grubby glasses from the night stand and slips them on to Harry's nose, quirking a brow when Harry's face contorts. "It was a bloody mess. Tell you over a slice?"


	45. HG - Post game snogging

A/N: HARRY AND GINNY GETTIN FRISKY. You've been warned. xD

* * *

Since he was about fifteen and three quarters, Harry James Potter has been essentially incapable of keeping his head around one Ginevra Molly Weasley. He's not ashamed to admit that she can pretty much have him like putty in her hands at the drop of a hat. Or a Quidditch kit.

Which is normally fine. Harry's a big fan of Ginny in all states of undress. But he really does try to keep the exhibitionism to a minimum; a goal that's gotten harder since their time together is less frequent and Ginny gets particularly _excitable_ after a game.

Still, she's never started stripping, pulled him into an empty medical room, and stuck her hands down his trousers in the span of thirty seconds. But she's also never been a starting chaser for the Harpies and _won_.

He's trying really hard to keep things as non-naked as possible, but Ginny's doing that _thing_ to his ear. "Ginny," her leg loops around his hip, " _Gin."_

She kisses him once, twice, "You're delaying things I don't particularly want to _wait_ for," a third time and she's nothing if not thorough.

Harry's fingers spear into her already wild braid, palm cupping the back of her head, "Neither do I."

They walk backward until Ginny's back hits the exam table and he helps her hop up on the sleek surface and her voice is breathy enough that he takes a bit of healthy pride in it. "There's only one thing I love more than winning."

He hums against her already swollen lips, inviting her to continue.

But before she can, the door creaks open, "I just need a bottle of - bloody hell. Get some Weasley!"

Groaning, Ginny drops her forehead to Harry's shoulder while he keeps certain parts of himself deliberately angled away from the interloper. "Can we help you, Morris?"

Morris snickers, "I assume that's not an invitation, so I'll just grab what I came for and make myself scarce."

Harry groans quietly against Ginny's neck and her fingers stroke his neck softly, then a bit more _teasing_. "Yes please."

After she's puttered around the cabinets for a few minutes, eyeing them teasingly, Morris grabs a couple of tonics and sends a teasing wink over her shoulder, "Lock the door?"

Ginny rolls her hips and Harry squeaks, " _Please_."


	46. HG - Sweater Stealing

A/N: flirty post war fluff :) :)

* * *

One of the facts of life when you're reluctantly raised by the Dursleys is a very accurate knowledge of all clothing you wear. Between that and spending the last seven years nearly dying and then _actually_ dying, he's not had much chance to remedy the problem.

It's one of his tentative summer goals; but lately, goals sound viable in the wee hours when he's finally calmed enough to being drifting off to sleep and flutter away on the afternoon breeze as he lounges in the too-tall grass.

So he's still _very_ aware when one of his four still-wearable jumpers goes missing. It's early yet, but he'd woken in that cold, panicked sweat that never lets him fall back. Harry feels around in the dark, hands closing on his jeans first, then - _not_ his jumper.

Not the one he _wants_ anyway. It's the only hand-me-down that actually _felt_ like his. Dudley had immediately balked at the color and tossed it into the fireplace, luckily just singeing the right sleeve a bit on the end. It's broken in that perfect amount and it's definitely not in his trunk.

Sighing, Harry grabs another and tugs it over his head before slipping downstairs and out into the garden.

The sun's just barely lighting the lowest part of the eastern sky, barely pink, while the crickets still chirp in the bushes and the gnome's snores sound from behind the trees.

He picks his way to the grove of apple trees and searches for a spot to curl up and mull - _not_ brood thank you very much, Hermione - hopefully he'll doze for a bit with the cool air to calm his trembling nerves.

Which he does, apparently, because he wakes when the sun's warm overhead and sweat's begun to gather at his collar. Eyeing the crooked house, it seems the family within is still abed or at least making themselves busy where cooling charms still take effect, so he wanders toward the pond and slips out of his clothes.

Carefully settling his glasses atop his sweatshirt, Harry trots quickly toward the water until it's caressing his bare skin. Something about dying and coming back to life let down his inhibitions enough to skinny dip. By himself. With only minimal blushing. _Tosser_.

He's just let himself drift onto his back, blinking slowly as he gazes at the slow moving clouds overhead when a pebble hits his chest and he jolts, feet finding the uneven ground beneath the water. " _Ginny_ , what the - "

"Nice - " Ginny gestures down below the murky water and Harry flushes.

Harry's about to stammer his way through an explanation when his blurry gaze catches on her sleeve. "My jumper."

Instead of setting her off her footing, Ginny's smirk merely widens as she toys with the ties around her neck, "Is it?"

Wandering a little closer, the cool breeze chills Harry's recently exposed chest and he can't help but delight a bit when Ginny's eyes dart to follow the droplets running over his skin. "Yes."

Her fingers slip to where the hem skims her pale thighs, "Well, I'll return it post haste?"

His instinct is to flush, to turn and make excuses. But Ginny's got that look, the challenging one that had him trying to stand on his broom and 'surf' over the swaying grasses the summer before sixth year. So he smirks back, earning a flash in her eyes he hasn't seen since his 17th birthday. "Then come for a swim, yeah? Water's fine."

The water skims her ankles now, "You're on, Potter."


	47. H & H - Harry and Hagrid post DH

A/N: Never really written Hagrid I don't think! I hope you like :)

* * *

"Glad ya came Harry," Hagrid says in the closest he gets to a quiet voice, still booming in the cozy cabin.

Harry gently guides Fang away from licking his chin and smiles, "Seemed pretty urgent. Anything to do with construction?"

Hagrid tromps over to the fireplace, certainly less crooked than it was originally, and prods the fire thoughtfully. "There's somethin' I need yer advice about. 'S important."

Sipping at his nearly boiling tea, Harry settles back in the too-big chair and waits a moment. But Hagrid's still hemming and hawing. " _So_."

"It's about Molly," Hargrid finally grinds out, claiming the broad footstool for himself and scratching behind Fang's ears absentmindedly.

And at the mention of Mrs. Weasley, Harry's got a veritable litany of reasons someone could be concerned about Molly. It hasn't even been two months since she'd lost Fred, since they'd nearly lost _everything_. She, like all of them, had almost been ghost-like for the first few weeks, barely doing enough to stay afloat.

But she'd soon kicked into high gear, practically baking her way through every cookbook tucked on the rough-hewn shelves with Ron as a surprisingly adept sous-chef.

The Weasleys - plus Potter and Granger - weren't particularly at their peak appetites; but even at full power, they never would've been able to eat more than half of her daily output.

So she'd started sending care packages to whoever they could think of, so she could continue her endless baking in peace. It was a lot, but Harry sees the peace that settles over her features as she carefully measures out raising agents, tosses an extra handful of flour in the bowl.

Hagrid clears his throat and jars Harry from his ruminations. "She - I don't like her tea cakes."

Harry blinks, "Sorry - what?"

"They got no _texture_ ," Hagrid blurts.

"And you feel bad to tell her?"

"Fang won't even eat 'em," Hagrid moans.

He's torn a bit, because laughter bubbles in his throat, and he doesn't _want_ to, but laughter's so rare - still, he does his best. "We can give them away? Someone else will like them."

Hagrid sighs, "The volunteers're all full up from th' rock cakes."

Harry bites back a smile, "There's always room for more pastry, yeah?"


	48. HG - Jealous Harry

A/N: I hope you like? I finally actually wrote jealous!harry xD

* * *

Harry frowns at the Prophet, feeling like a bit of a wanker for the jealousy coiling in his belly, the tightening in his chest, but completely unable to quench it.

He's an adult, who trusts his wife, and definitely knows she can't stand Collins. But they're not _wrong_ that he's fit. Or famous for a _fun_ reason. Or that he's a world class quidditch player with a personality - well he _can_ deny that it's a great personality. Collins has an over abundance of self love that started out funny and ended up making Harry want to toss up his lunch.

Reasonable thoughts aside, Collins is close enough to Ginny in that picture - Harry'd been alright at first. But then the tosser had the nerve to loop an arm around Ginny's neck and _kiss_ her - albeit on the cheek, but a kiss nonetheless.

And Harry had been there, so he got to witness what the rest of Wizarding Britain missed. Namely Ginny handily dispatching Collins the Creeper with a jab under his ribs and a swift stamping of his instep.

He's still got a scowl twisting his face when the shower shuts off with a few squeaks and Ginny's warbling gets a bit louder as she putters about in the loo. The floorboards creak beneath her as she picks her way into the living room and dips over the back of the couch and nuzzles his neck. "You should've woken me."

"I figured you earned a solid rest, yeah," Harry answers, nuzzling her cheek and pressing a kiss to her jawline.

She melts a bit, but tenses when her gaze drifts toward the paper in his lap. "Bloody hell - wish they'd snapped it a few minutes later, yeah?"

Harry laughs, forcing it out like a huff. And of course Ginny sinks her teeth into it like a rabid dog. "He's an arse, you know."

He hums thoughtfully, "A wealthy, outgoing, professional quidditch playing arse," he tosses the paper aside, "Without a list of violent enemies."

"See you _don't_ know him that well," Ginny teases, but her hands slip further down his chest, holding him tightly enough that Harry can feel the warmth behind her unsaid words.

"Do you ever - "

Ginny pulls away almost immediately and pulls his hair so his head drops back against the couch. "Don't even finish that sentence Harry."

Her grip doesn't loosen and Harry doesn't drop her gaze, something in him incapable of not pressing just a bit - "I just -"

"I wouldn't trade you for a sack of Collinses," Ginny murmurs, tone gentling along with her touch, and Harry can't help but let his lids drift closed.

Until he's left cold and bereft and his eyes flick open immediately, but Ginny's already rounded the couch arm and perched near his knee. "How could you - "

Sighing, Harry grabs her fingers and pulls her toward his chest, resting their joined hands over his heart. "Sometimes it's just hard to imagine you'd want to stick with - with _me_."

The last word comes out on a whisper as he presses his lips to the slim wedding band on her finger and Ginny softens. "What's it going to take?"

He kisses her palm, and Ginny lets it slide over his cheek, fingertips toying with the escaped tendrils of his perpetually messy hair, until a cry from down the hall breaks the moment. Ginny smirks, "I'll go get our _son_ and maybe between the two of us, we can convince you."

Ginny's just reached the door frame when she turns back, "Vernon Dursley was an idiot and he's the furthest thing from being your father there could be."

Harry chuckles dryly and rises to follow her into the other room, arm wrapping around the sway of her waist as he ushers her toward James. She presses a kiss to his chest. "Anyone with half a brain would do anything to keep you, Harry James.


	49. VT - Flirting at the Burrow

A/N: Woo tedoire! Though it took a surprising turn I did not expect.

* * *

The third time Teddy asks Victoire to pass the salt and just _happens_ to accidentally let his fingers graze hers, she's about ready to take him out back and throttle him. Or snog him 'til their lips are numb.

Puberty is difficult.

Still, she's not without her own flirtatious abilities, so she lets her touch linger while maintaining eye contact. She grins a bit, biting her lip in that way she _knows_ drives him crazy and then tries to decide exactly how to make eating mashed potatoes sexy.

It's an uphill battle, but Teddy chokes on his water and narrows his eyes when she quirks her brow, so she's won this round.

Or at least she thinks so until he ruffles his hair and drapes his arm over the back of his chair, tilting his head so his toned chest and and sharp jawline are explicitly on display. It's hen she's decided she _definitely_ wants to punch him - and then kiss it better.

When she manages to tear her gaze away, she ends up making eye contact with her uncle - luckily the single one that won't take Teddy out back for a 'chat' - and he smirks at her, eyes crinkling behind his round glasses. He salutes her with his glass before turning with some cheeky rejoinder for his wife.

She thinks the issue's passed for the time being; and it has, until she brings the last of the dishes into the kitchen and finds Uncle Harry at the sink and smiling like he's been waiting for her. "Alright, Vic?"

Placing the dishes next to his elbow, Victoire grabs a fresh tea towel and begins drying the dishes he's already washed, eager for something to do with her hands. "Sure. Gran always makes sure I won't be able to eat for a week - I guess she doesn't think Mère feeds us appropriately."

He snorts and passes another dish her way, "I've been around for a good number of 'French food isn't _real_ food' rants."

"It drives Mère up the wall," she shrugs and wipes around the inside of a serving plate, "I think it's sweet."

Uncle Harry laughs again and gives the fork in his hand _particular_ focus when he murmurs, "Y'know what else is sweet? Making eyes at your secret boyfriend."

"How - did you just say _making eyes_?" Victoire laughs, despite the flush on her cheeks.

Scowling, he flicks some suds at her with the spatula in his hand and brushes the teasing aside, "You'll never outdo Ron on the jokes about my choice of terminology so just drop it. I want to hear more about who you were playing footsie with at the table."

She blows out a breath and narrows her eyes, "I'm related to everyone in this house."

When his eyes light in triumph, Victoire knows she's given the Boy Who Lived exactly what he wanted. "Related to all except _one_."

"Teddy is _such_ a blabber mouth."

"You're the one who dragged your foot up Ginny's leg," Uncle Harry points out, twisting the tap off and perching the sponge on the edge of the sink.

"Bloody - so now you know."

"More like a confirmation," Uncle Harry shrugs, "Since we found some _ah_ flowery doodles of your name in his room at the cottage."

Victoire smiles and rubs the back of her neck, fully back in the snog Teddy silly camp. Until Uncle Harry pats her shoulder on his way out. "Just - when your dad figures it out, don't tell him I knew, yeah?"


	50. VT - Bill finds out

A/N: I hope you like, and also if you want what preceded this, I wrote it a while ago in Guidance

* * *

"Do I want to know why Bill wearing a hole in my rug?" Ginny asks dryly, settling a few shopping bags on the sideboard.

Ron grins and tilts his head toward the hall, "Ted and Victoire's secret is out."

Pulling a few cartons of ice cream from one of the sacks, Ginny sighs. "It was bound to come out - it's fun seeing Bill going bonkers."

"Unless he loses his cool and realizes he could just _alohamora_ his way in there," Ron murmurs, rolling his eyes while Bill's ranting gets a little louder.

Harry chuckles, screwing the top back on the bottle of firewhiskey. "If I know Ted, he's got half that bedroom stacked against the door."

"So what are - "

"Potter, I don't want to wreck your house but - "

Ginny prods Bill toward the kitchen table and grabs the firewhiskey back from Harry, pouring a healthy serving into a fresh glass and nudging it into her brother's clenched fist. "Drink."

He grunts.

"You _love_ Teddy," Ginny says after Bill's had a few mouthfuls, "Victoire's not much younger than Fleur was when you - "

Another grunt. "I _know_."

Chuckling, Ron claims a seat and grabs the bottle back from Ginny, refilling his tumbler. "I'm no super sleuth, but I _assume_ that comparison is Bill's exact concern."

Harry leans toward Ginny and murmurs, "I suppose 'Victoire started it' won't be helpful in this situation?"

"It didn't work when she started the great accidental magic water fight of '02," Ginny drawls, nudging his side playfully while Bill gradually calms.

"Little arsehole spends half the day in a bloody _greenhouse_ ," Bill grumbles, "Damn Hufflepuff."

A haughty sniff sounds from the doorway. "I take offense at the slight against my house."

Bill quirks a brow, and really no one would blame Teddy for faltering under the glare, but he squares his shoulders while Harry tenses, ready to step in, Ginny rolls her eyes, and Ron looks like he wishes he had a cinema snack.

It's tense and quiet for a few moments, Bill and Teddy never breaking their staring contest until Bill clenches his grip on his drinks and blows out a deep breath. "Just - " he sighs again.

And because his godfather is Harry Potter, because he's Remus Lupin's son, because he's Nymphadora Tonks' son, Teddy raises his brows and blinks innocently.

Slowly, Bill pushes his chair from the table with a slow scrape against the floor and takes three long strides to stand in front of Teddy. His voice is low and dangerous when he blinks down at him. " _Just_."

And because Teddy doesn't have a _death wish_ , he nods, "Yes sir."


	51. VT - Hogwarts Express Goodbye

A/N: I didn't look back at the epilogue before I wrote this so grain of salt and such. Hope you like :)

* * *

Teddy was hoping to give Victoire some sort of appropriate goodbye sendoff, and he had a few ideas in mind. But apparently she did to and was much quicker on the draw.

Not that he has any reason to complain when his sort of secret girlfriend has her fingers buried in his hair and her lips are doing glorious things to his. Then she breaks away and he nips at her jawline while she whispers things he doesn't understand but _does_ understand in breathy French that has his insides turning molten.

" _Vic_ ," Teddy murmurs while her hands ruck up the back of his shirt, "Vic - we're in public."

She pulls back and frowns, "Notice-me-not charm. Now can we _proceed_?"

"We're not being particularly secretive," Teddy says with a grin, brushing his nose along hers, pressing slower, more chaste kisses to her lips.

"How secret are we when we've been featured in a Skeeter article?"

Teddy flushes and the tips of his icy blue hair tinge bubblegum pink, "S'pose you're right."

She flicks her hair over one shoulder haughtily and laughs, "Of course I am," she snakes one hand up to grab the front of his shirt, "Now where were we?"

It's been a few, lovely moments when a gasp sounds from over his shoulder. " _Teddy_ what are you _doing_?"

Victoire drops her forehead to his shoulder and groans. "James go away."

"I can't believe you're sucking each other's faces!"

Their twin chuckles bubbling from swollen lips, neither Teddy or Victoire gets much beyond a light growl for the eldest Potter boy, but he apparently gets the hint. Or decides to get the jump on the news before someone else does.

"At least dad already knows," Victoire murmurs, "I'm glad I was around to protect you when he figured it out."

Frowning, Teddy runs his hands up her back, toying with the tips of her strawberry blonde hair. "I was all alone, holed up in Godric's and hoping not to die."

"Dad wouldn't kill you at Uncle Harry's."

"You didn't see the blood lust, Vic, I'm a lucky man," Teddy says with a grin, straightening her collar and morosely re-buttoning the top few closures he'd slipped free.

Victoire kisses him, short and sweet, before tugging him toward the Hogwarts Express, "Yes, you are. Now come wave me off like a good lad."


	52. HG - new parents

A/N: Shorty, but cute parent life :)

* * *

Ginny slides a cool glass of pumpkin juice onto the table near Harry's hand and scratches at his beard. "You're going a bit overgrown."

"It was either three minutes of sleep or trimming the beast," Harry murmurs, face squished against the tabletop.

Claiming the seat opposite, Ginny sips her own juice and sighs. "Not that I'd trust either of us with a sharp object at the mo'."

Harry snorts, lifting his head just enough to take a swig. "True."

They both pause, breath's held as they listen for any sound from the nursery which still remains blissfully silent. Save their nervous - _quiet_ \- chuckles.

Ginny nudges Harry's foot beneath the table, her cozy sock warm against his chilly toes. "We're doing alright, yeah?"

He smiles softly and knits their fingers together, "Yeah," he laughs again, "Unless we're using personal hygiene as part of our metric."

Plucking at her two day old shirt, Ginny nods. "Not in our best interest, I'd say."

"Maybe after a solid kip, we'll shower off?" Harry suggests, propping his head on his hand tiredly.

And before Ginny can answer, a shrill cry sounds from down the hall. "Maybe in a few years."


	53. VT - Illicit Activities

A/N: HOPE THIS IS GOOD!

* * *

"Who'd have thought Herbology was a contact subject?" Victoire murmurs, squeezing out the flannel and dipping it back in the chilly water.

Teddy snorts, then winces when the movement stretches the laceration at his temple. "I dunno, probably anyone raised in a magical family?"

Pulling back, Victoire frowns and raises a threatening finger, "I could leave you to your own devices."

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, and there's no one else to help an injured student - certainly not an entire _wing_ dedicated to it - "

"If you were going to do that, you wouldn't have come to me in the first place, eh," Victoire shoots back, stooping back down to rifle around in her med kit while Teddy swings his legs where they dangle over the edge of the counter.

They're quiet until Victoire rises again, a few vials clenched between her "Is it a conflict of interests for the Head Boy to use the Prefect's Bath to clean up after illicit activities?"

A snort. "I hardly think extra credit work is _illicit_."

Victoire leans forward, dabbing at a particularly nasty cut along his jaw with gentle fingers. "Sounds like the exact type of thing a troublemaker would say."

Chuckling, Teddy grips the sink 'til his knuckles go white while she grabs another vial. "It's in my blood, eh?"

"Nature _or_ nurture, you were screwed, I suppose," Victoire murmurs, brushing a fresh smelling cream just at his temple where a bruise is rising, purple and bright on his skin.

Breathing going shallow at her nearness, Teddy can't help but give into the urge to lean into her hand. She smiles, soft. "Ted - "

"Yeah?" Teddy scratches out, barely a whisper.

Her eyes dart over his face, curious and unsure. Then resolve blazes across her features and she nods once, decisive.

And then her lips are on his, all heat and affection - new and familiar at the same time. A fire blazes in his chest, trembling out through his fingers while hers rise to knit through his hair. Breathless, she pulls away and grins while examining his hair, "Electric blue," she laughs, "Is that _my_ color?"

Flushing, Teddy stares at his clenched fists. "'S not on purpose, _per se_."

She kisses the corner of his mouth and whispers against his lips, " _Elaborate_?"

He clears his throat, "Your - it's your eyes."

If he were less flustered, he'd really bask in the fact that Victoire Weasley has been knocked off her feet by his confession, but he's honestly a bit floored that he _admitted_ it. But her hands haven't ceased their caresses, running circuits over his shoulders, up his neck, into his hair -

Teddy groans, " _Vic_."

Victoire kisses him again, once, twice. "Yeah?"

"Door locked?"

She grins. "Way ahead of you."


	54. P - Harry & the kids

A/N: Little shorty :)

* * *

Harry winces as Lily tugs a bit too hard on his hair, bruised knees bracketing his shoulders while she hums nonsensically to herself. The fire burns higher as Albus tosses broken twigs into the flames and sighs, "Does mum not like marshmallows?"

Snorting, Harry shifts on the uneven ground and quirks a brow at his middle child. "Why would you say that, Al?"

He shrugs, "Y'never buy 'em except when she's away."

James props his face on his chin mulishly. "S'cause he thinks we're gonna be sad when she's not here."

Lily drops the fourth of Harry's braids halfway through and grabs the sides of his face with childish hands, pulling his head backward into her lap. "Is that true, _dad_?"

Blowing a kiss in her direction, Harry lifts his head back up and places Lily's hands back in his hair. She holds out one hand for another ribbon and weaves it in with the next braid while Albus tosses a twig into the flames. "Nah, he does it 'cause _he_ misses mum - marshmallows make him happy."

Harry chuckles while Lily gasps, "Is _that_ true?"

"God, Lily-Lu you'll believe _anything_ ," James drawls, flopping onto his back and crunching down on a graham cracker. Harry flicks his forehead and glares.

"I _said_ 'is it true' - that's not believing anything," Lily corrects primly, patting Harry's shoulders like Molly does when she's finished shearing her sons' hair.

Flicking his wand, Harry summons the marshmallows toward himself and tears the bag open, popping one of the oversized puffs into his mouth. "We going to sit around and talk about our feelings, or are we gonna gorge ourselves on too much sugar and play with fire?"

James crawls from the tent and drags one of the sleeping bags with him, wrapping it around his small shoulders and Harry's. "Sounds good."

Lily hugs Harry's neck and Albus plops himself in his lap. Carefully, Harry prods the fire a bit higher and spears a marshmallow on one of the skewers and holds it over the flame, letting it catch fire and slowly turn molten. "Who wants it real charred?"


	55. HG - Our parents ship us

A/N: Short! But I got a request for 'the parents ship us' hinny fic (with Jily alive) :)

* * *

"I really don't think hiding is the best idea," Harry murmurs against Ginny's lips, her fingers rucking up his t-shirt as she walks him further into the grove of trees. He really shouldn't be focusing on whether their families know they're together. And Ginny apparently agrees.

"Why are you," she tugs his shirt off fully and prods him 'til he falls backward onto a luckily soft patch of earth, "Thinking about our _parents_ while my tongue is down your throat?"

Harry sits forward again, claiming her mouth heatedly so her groan rumbles past his lips. "Technically, when I brought it up - "

She full on growls this time, nipping and nibbling her way along his jaw, down his neck, "Again, if you're arguing technicalities, something's wrong."

Chuckling, Harry cups the back of her head and slants his lips over hers, rolling until he's cradled between her legs. "Sorry, you have my full attention."

Fingers knitting through his hair, Ginny frowns thoughtfully up at him, shifting slightly and wrapping her leg around his hips. "I'm not convinced yet, _Potter_."

"Allow me to do so, Gin."

He swallows her moan and he doesn't even have to try and forget their parents.

But he's rapidly brought back to that reality when they wander back into the kitchen, slightly rumpled but mostly put together, and find James Potter and Arthur Weasley sporting their _worst_ poker faces over tea and maybe - Bridge?

"Alright, _kids_?" James asks, eyeing his son speculatively until his gaze catches on a spot on Harry's neck where Ginny'd _definitely_ lingered.

Ginny clears her throat, "Sure - just went for a fly."

Arthur sniffs, and Ginny thinks they're about to witness an ever rare but all together eviscerating Arthur Weasley tirade, until she sees the laugh wrinkles around his eyes and the twitch at his lips.

"Bloody - " grabbing Harry's hand, Ginny tugs him back out into the yard and shouts over her shoulder, "I"m taking my _boyfriend_ outside to have my way with him."

Stumbling along after her, Harry finally gets her to slow down halfway to the paddock. "Boyfriend, eh?"

"I don't take my shirt off for just any bloke," Ginny scoffs, face flushing and Harry thinks he falls in love right there.

"Well that's good to know then."

"Yeah - well _you'd_ better not, you know."

Harry's brows rise questioningly and he kisses her once, twice, three times, before pulling away and smiling softly. "Of course not - can't step out on my girlfriend, can I?"

Ginny grins, "No - guess you can't."


	56. JL - hopeless staring

A/N: idk this is weird lol

* * *

"Lily, you're doing it again," Gert murmurs, nudging her a bit too sharply with her elbow.

Darting her eyes back toward her book, Lily fidgets in her seat and sighs. "I'm not doing anything - except reading."

Gert snorts, " _Sure_."

Despite her denials, Lily does find her mind and eyes wandering across the room, to warm skin and hair like coal and fingers that can't stay still -

" _Lily_."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder angrily and scowls at Gert. " _What_."

"When you _weren't staring_ , you shifted your elbow onto my notes," Gert gestures to the table and Lily tugs her arm away with a muttered apology.

Gritting her teeth, Lily renews her focus and clicks her pen with a bit more vigor than necessary. She's made it through about a quarter of her _STUDY TIME!_ playlist when the barista drops a tray of something loud and metal behind the counter and her pen swipes across her luckily new page in a wide, messy arc.

" _Bloody hell_."

After a breath, Lily realizes exactly how _loud_ she exclaimed and when she slowly glances up, her gaze meets with gorgeously rich hazel eyes rimmed by thick, dark lashes. She blinks, not ashamed to admit her mouth may have dropped open a bit, and thinks she may be going 'round the bend.

And then his mouth, that beautiful, sinful mouth, ticks up at the corner and she's _certain_.

So she ducks her head again and frowns at the scarred page, turning the slash into a slightly wonky leaf, which turns into a cartoonish flower, which somehow gives way to a little gaggle of hearts and Lily's certain the rest of her study session is shot. She's just slammed her notebook closed when a man saunters up to their table, the literal embodiment of the 'tall dark and handsome' concept, and folds his arms while he eyes her. "Sorry to bother you - "

She frowns, continuing to tuck away her supplies, but figures a name can't hurt anything. "Lily. And this is Gert."

Gert grunts and narrows her eyes at the interloper, "Charmed, I'm sure."

Lily snorts to herself and stands, dragging her bag over her shoulder, "Gert's not interested _ever_ and unless you've got a magic trick that helps me commit a fifty-page study outline to memory in twenty-four hours, I'm out too."

Unaffected, their new friend pulls out the spare seat and sprawls on it like it's his throne. "Actually, I'm here because you're ruining our meeting."

Jaw working uselessly, Lily finally settles on a scowl and levels it at her newly acquired foe with deadly accuracy. Still, he doesn't cower. "Sirius Orion Black, by the way."

"Not really sure why a full introduction is necessary, since your opening line was so _supremely_ aggressive."

"Aggressively _asshole_ ," Gert puts in, capping her highlighter with a definitive _click_ and leveling her best glare at Sirius.

Sirius clears his throat and lounges back further in his seat. " _You_ are ruining my meeting because _lover boy_ over there won't stop staring and we have a presentation worth fifty-percent of our grade day after tomorrow."

It's as if her eyes are magnetically drawn across the room again - which would be an accurate descriptor of the last two hours - and Lily finds the object of her daydreams looking rather murderously at their new companion.

Before she can answer, Gert cuts in, commiserating, "This one's been completely useless too - I still don't like you, just FYI."

Sirius shrugs, "I can deal with that - if you're up for a temporary alliance."

"I'm listening."

Lily scowls, "What are we doing, exactly?"

"She gives me her number," Sirius begins and Gert lets out a booming laugh, "This is possibly the _worst_ pick-up scheme of all time."

Hazel-eyes chooses this moment to walk up and grip Sirius' shoulder 'til his knuckles turn white. "Excuse my _friend_ , he was just leaving."

"No, we're not leaving before we have a presentation worthy of the triumphant ending of a screwball eighties comedy," Sirius corrects, finger wagging in front of James' nose, before he turns to Lily, "So, the deal is, you give me your number for my friend," he gestures toward Hazel-eyes, "James. Text him to prove it, then leave."

"And I'll do this because?"

Gert groans and shoves away from the table, "Because you've been looking at him like you want to throw him down and have your way with him since we _got here."_

James grunts and shoves Sirius' shoulder, " _We_ are leaving."

"I'm wing-manning you, James," Sirius practically whines.

Lily stands, holding her hand out for and wiggles her fingers. James eyes her for a moment before pulling his phone from his coat pocket and sliding it into her palm. "I'm putting my number in, and I'll see you once finals are over, yeah?"


	57. JL - physical therapist James

A/N: a bit longer than most of these, but I got an ask suggesting physical therapist James and I got carried away I guess xD

* * *

Lily makes it six weeks into her eight week prescribed physical therapy before she gets caught staring at a particularly delicious pair of forearms. Luckily by this point, they've established an ease between them - mainly teasing borne of her need to camouflage her infatuation - so the confrontation is lighthearted.

"Doing alright there, Evans?"

"Just day dreaming about when I'll finally be free of our weekly torture sessions," Lily manages to sigh relatively calm despite the thudding in her chest and what are probably telltale flushed cheeks.

James hums, noncommittal and gently easing her leg into a fully straightened position. When he glances up from her leg - meticulously clean shaven because she has a _problem_ \- his smile's a bit hesitant, gaze a little shuttered and she feels her heart clench uncomfortably.

"Let's head over to the stairs, yeah?"

By week seven they move on to the balancing equipment, and Lily's thoughts of James and his beautifully adept fingers are more focused on gripping them so tight _he_ might need to see a doctor because she's _definitely_ cutting off an unhealthy amount of circulation. Her toes are barely brushing the edge of the platform when she murmurs with forced humor, "I dunno if I could've done this _pre_ injury."

"Your rugby team would beg to differ," James drawls, propping his elbow on the handrail and tilting his head toward the balance board, "Get on up there, Evans. Where's that classic Lily motivation?"

"Currently motivated to _not_ ruin two months of work," Lily grumbles, finally letting her fingers wrap around the handrails, squeezing tight enough that her knuckles go white.

James sends her that crooked grin that on good days she likes to think is just a little more than professional courtesy at his patient's joke and slants his gaze toward the equipment, "Who's the trained professional here? I'll stay right beside you the entire time, yeah?"

She holds his gaze for a moment, the soft smile on his lips warming her body against the chilly treatment room. "Yeah."

"Up you get then," James says after a heated moment or two, and Lily's almost dizzy at the abrupt switch. But she's quickly distracted by the task at hand, one trainer settling on the foot outline that marks where she's supposed to step.

Taking a steadying breath, she pushes her full weight onto her leg and prepares for the twinge behind her knee - that doesn't come. Her eyes open, one and then the other, and James is standing in front of her smirking in that way that's simultaneously infuriating and probably the most attractive thing she's ever seen. It's equal parts tempting to punch him in the face and tear that stupid blue polo off his taut chest. He brings his hands up to the handrails and raises his brows. "Go on."

And she's caught up enough in her own mind that for a second she thinks he's inviting her to actually take it off. But his eyes dart down to her hands and she takes a deep breath that in truth is more of a long suffering sigh, focusing her gaze and releasing her hands.

Her palms tap back town on the poles a few times, mostly in reassurance when she begins to wobble a bit too much for comfort, until James nods and holds out his hand for her to grab. "That's enough of that for today - how about a nice massage."

"My meniscus did work very hard today," Lily agrees, trying to ignore the shiver that runs up her spine when their fingers brush.

And when she's seated on the table, paper crinkling beneath her as James rubs cream into her knee, she really feels as if she's ascended to a higher plain - and not even for creepy reasons. He's just really good at his job. Which she apparently groans out because he laughs, nudging his glasses up higher on his nose, "Thanks."

The last of the other patients finish while James is showing Lily a few more exercises to do with her new Theraband and there's more than a small storm already well underway outside as he walks with her toward the front entrance. "Your car here yet?"

Lily shakes her head, prodding her phone screen, "It says two minutes away, You?"

"I'll just take the train," James shrugs, tightening his coat around his neck, "After your ride comes, of course."

She blinks up at him, "I'm a big girl, James."

In a seeming change of subject, James turns to face the traffic as it splashes by and murmurs, "Next week's your last session."

Narrowing her eyes, Lily considers him for a moment, "Glad to finally be rid of me?"

His jaw opens and closes uselessly, a few unintelligible sounds eking from his lips before he grinds out, "I - er - no?"

Laughing, Lily's chest lightens, free of a weight she hadn't even recognized until it was gone. "Share my ride?"

"I dunno if that's appropriate - " James hedges, but his eyes brightened at the prospect.

"Just a ride," Lily prods, "Until next week, and then well, we'll see if another ride is in order, yeah?"

At some point, she'd closed some of the distance between them, her hood dropping as she tilts her head backward. James lip quirks in a grin, "You're awfully tempting, Lily Evans."

Rising on her toes, worn out muscles sluggish but motivated, Lily lets her nose brush along his, "Awfully."

As he's about to throw caution, along with his professional ethics, to the wind and snog the utterly tempting Lily Evans senseless, her car arrives and _literally_ throws cold water in his face. Along with a bit of mud.

There are flecks of it on his cheeks, like brand new freckles that Lily brushes away with icy fingers. "Suppose we can wait a week?"


	58. HG - I drunkenly tried to fight you

A/N: I got this prompt about a billion years ago and even forgot I even got it but here it is!

* * *

When Ginny wakes, her mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton and her head is doing an excellent job of seeming like it's about to break open. She slowly rolls onto her side - which takes a lot more effort than usual - and fumbles around for her wand, finding a glass of water and a slip of parchment.

Clumsily, she drags herself across the bed she's just realized is _much_ too large to be her own and drags her arm beneath her until she's propped up enough to gulp down half the water and squint at the note.

 _Drink this. Be back in a few._

 _-H_

And that's when it starts to come back. The mixed drinks that went down _way_ too easy and the skipped lunch and then she fought Harry? That part gets a little fuzzy again, but there was definitely an attempt at fisticuffs.

Groaning, Ginny flops onto her back and lets her eyes drift closed to enjoy the warmth of being in Harry's bed - because that's definitely where she is - before she lets the embarrassment of the previous night's antics sink in.

She's about halfway off in a doze when the door creaks open and someone pads in on nearly silent feet. Eyes cracking open, Ginny finds a supremely soft looking Harry lingering in the doorway with what smells like - "Dippy eggs and soldiers?"

Nodding, Harry tilts his head and nudges the door open a bit more with his shoulder and sets the tray in his hands on his old trunk at the foot of the bed. "Afternoon, sleepyhead."

She smiles and presses her palms to the mattress, bracing her back against the headboard, though her brain feels a bit too heavy for it. As Harry tucks the coverlet more closely around Ginny, she sighs, fingers working at her knotted hair and attempting to look somewhat less like an abominable snowman. "I'm sorry for - whatever I did last night."

Harry smiles gently as he retrieves the breakfast tray from the foot of the bed. He places it over Ginny's lap and smiles, "You're alright, Gin," she quirks a brow, and Harry chuckles, "I wouldn't say do it every week."

Before he can pull away, Ginny grabs his forearm and then his cheeks, poking around for any bruises or other injuries. "Did I get you?"

Pulling back and claiming the free side of the bed, Harry swipes a slice of toast, crunching into it with a grin, "I _am_ a trained auror."

"But _I_ grew up the youngest of seven," Ginny shoots back, crunching into a slice of bacon gratefully.

With a sigh, Harry brushes the crumbs from his fingers and flicks his wand toward the loo. In a flash, he's got the brush from Ginny's drawer in his hand and he's slowly, gently, working the gnarls from her hair. "You thought I was an imposter."

Ginny snickers but throws her shoulders back, "A valid theory."

"An imposter trying to steal your shoes for my pet centipede."

"Slightly less valid," Ginny allows, "But magic can do crazy things."

Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before beginning a loose braid, Harry laughs, "So can rum."


	59. S & H - Babysitting

A/N: I think only 1 more after this :) :) I got a prompt on tumblr and I hope you like this silly little something or other

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Harry's nearly six when Sirius decides to damn Lily's temper and buckle the young Potter into the sidecar of his motorbike for a quick ride. She _did_ leave the sprog in his care, which implies that she trusts his judgment - and he judges that a jaunt up to the local ice cream parlor and back won't do anyone harm.

Besides, Godric's is a magical community. The closest anyone gets to modern transportation is Mrs. Benjamin's walker. So after a fair number of extra charms on the sidecar, an added seat-belt, and a deaf ear toward Harry's please to go 'as fast as humanly possible and then a little faster after that' they're off.

The first problem arises when Sirius realizes that James and Lily weren't the only roadblock to a successful evening because they practically had every elderly witch and wizard in the village on their payroll when it came to alerts about Harry's safety. So to buy Mr. Addington's silence, Sirius had to top James' weekly mince pie deliveries.

Which means he's plastering on his most charming smile as he brings the motorbike to a halt. "Lovely night for a stroll, eh?"

Mr. Addington quirks a brow, eyeing the bike and Harry's solemn face. "Or something similar."

Sighing, SIrius throws his leg over the seat, boots crunching on the gravel street, "What's your price old man?"

"You can't top mince pie," Addington frowns, knocking his cane twice in emphasis.

Harry scrambles from the sidecar and tugs on Addington's overlong robes. "Bet I can get dad t'make you extra," he glances up at Sirius, "For a price."

It's not until they're tucked in their favorite booth, fudge sundaes melting before them that Sirius nudges Harry. "Y'know I'm not sure if I should be proud or terrified of you, mate."

Grinning, Harry takes another spoonful and grins, "Probably more from mum."

"Little arsehole," Sirius snorts, poking his spoon in Harry's direction, " _That's_ from your dad."

Harry shrugs and scrapes his spoon along his rapidly emptying dish while the bell chimes as more customers are admitted. "So what's next?"

Sirius narrows his eyes and smiles, "We're going _home_."

"Are we?"

" _Yes_. Right - " just as Sirius is about to rise, Harry grabs his forearm desperately.

And then the second, much bigger problem presents itself. " _Don't_."

There's real panic in his wide emerald eyes, his grip strong and his voice nearly a whisper. Sirius can't help but recall a time when that could've meant imminent death and terror - can't help but be a bit thrown off. But he shakes the feeling away and subtly turns his head so he can see the counter.

"Bloody buggering - _shite_."

"Good thing mum smashed the swear jar," Harry snickers.

"Don't say _mum_ , she's got a bloody radar," Sirius hisses, ducking down in the booth and hastily glancing around for the exits.

"I thought they were going to see a film," Harry whispers back, mirroring Sirius' hunch.

Sighing, Sirius squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'll head out back and get the bike - you hide behind the counter with - "

"Too late," Harry winces, slapping Sirius' hand, "They're coming this way."

"Under the booth."

Both godfather and godson slip beneath the tabletop, remembering to grab their bowls at the last minute. Harry's momentary panic apparently abated as he's taken to meticulously licking his dish clean.

Until Lily's voice sounds from the next booth, "Oh I'm so glad we got a night out."

"Me too," James sighs, pausing, "Love muffin."

Sirius and Harry share a confused glance beneath the table as Lily actually _giggles_. "How about we have another baby? A little boy or girl to share Harry's room."

Harry's so affronted he stands up into the table, rattling the napkin holder, but Sirius lays a hand on his shoulder and brings his finger to his lips. " _They know. They're trying to smoke us out_."

"If it's a girl we'll name it after the most important woman in our lives - "

Lily sighs, "Of _course_ \- Walburga."

And then Sirius, despite Harry's pleas, rises abruptly and nearly upends the table while James and Lily smirk at him from their cozy table. "Over my dead body - don't even _joke_."

James snorts and elbows Lily, "I told you."


	60. HG - 1 muggle 1 magic

A/N: A little shorty! This is going to be my last brevity! 60 chapters feels like a lot to go beyond so maybe I'll start another one shot collection at some point...just don't want to make it unmanageable.

* * *

The sixth morning the strange, dark haired man comes in to the office with another imaginary injury, she's intrigued but strangely _not_ reaching to call security. Which could turn out to be an error in judgment, but there's something in his eyes -

"Mr. Potter," Ginny begins, reading over the new notes on his chart, "What seems to be the problem?"

She holds back the 'today' she adds mentally, but he seems to understand the sentiment and flushes. But he plows ahead. "Bit of a stomach thing - I just worry about getting my godson sick."

Ginny's brows rise as she steps closer, "Ah - that makes sense."

"Of course it does," he agrees, shuffling a bit so the paper crinkles beneath him. Beneath the bum she is _really_ trying not to be unprofessional about.

Perching on the small stool, Ginny rolls toward the cabinet tucked in the corner and makes a few notes on the chart, mostly to keep herself busy so she doesn't notice how he fiddles with his glasses, runs his hands over his trousers nervously - perhaps more so he doesn't notice her noticing.

"I am a bit concerned at the," she pauses, "Ah - frequency of your visits? Mr. Potter, the symptoms may not mean much on their own but it could - "

"I think I should be honest with you, Dr. Weasley," he interrupts, "And Harry is fine."

"Honesty with your doctor is always good," Ginny answers, slow.

Harry bites his lip, then nods short as if coming to a decision. "We've been getting reports that there's been some strange things going on in the few blocks surrounding your office."

"Mrs. Figg with the cat cafe calling the Yard again?" Ginny snickers, wheeling a bit closer while Harry swings his legs a bit childishly.

"I can neither confirm nor deny whether Arabella Figg has weekly chats with my secretary."

Ginny snorts at his crooked grin, the teasing lilt of his voice as he fishes around in his coat pockets. "I've got some identification that should set your worries at ease, should you have them."

Twisting to face him fully, Ginny shrugs, "I'm slightly less worried now that I'm almost sure you're not a stalker."

Harry pulls a leather envelope from his pocket and flips it open, revealing a shiny badge and a photo ID. When he pulls his coat open to slide the badge back in place, she spots a long stick tucked away in a dark holster.

She glances back up and sees he's followed her gaze, but she doesn't relent. It's a short, tense moment before he clears his throat, "This will sound a bit strange."

"Try me."


End file.
